Healer's Touch
by OctoberOpal
Summary: Half-human, half-fairy, Lessil has the fairy's gift of being unseen, perfect for a hired burglar. But that is not the only reason Gandalf the Grey enlisted her help to reclaim the Lonely Mountain. Perhaps it can be in the healing of a dwarf king without a throne. Thorin/OC.
1. A Merry Gathering

**I've had a comment or two about how I'm replacing Bilbo with my OC and that maybe I shouldn't. My reason for leaving out Bilbo is because the fics I've read somewhat glaze over him. I love Bilbo, I really do, but I don't like seeing him so left out. I know for a fact that if my OC was an add-on instead of a replacement, that I would not be giving Bilbo the attention he deserves. It is out of respect for Bilbo that I'm deciding to leave him out of this story.**

* * *

**~~**I**~~**

**A Merry Gathering**

They say that hobbits came into being by the union of mortal men and fairies. Bollocks. Lessil was just that and she was very much taller than a hobbit, not as fat either and nor did she have hairy feet. It's not that she didn't like hobbits, just that the myth was simply that, a silly myth.

But yes, Lessil's father was a mortal man who fell in love and wedded a fairy. Strong and dark haired Dahn, silent and skilled as the hunter he was, stumbled upon the fairy, Mora, while on one of his hunting trips and fell instantly in love with her. For a year Dahn would enter through the forest, the same forest for clandestine meetings with his beloved. Soon after, they were wedded and enjoyed a content, blissful life together.

Together they begot two daughters. The first was Wisteria; golden haired just like Mora, but that was not the only similarities they shared. Wisteria also had her mother's porcelain skin and sharp, delicate features and a spring glow about her. But the most important feature of Wisteria was her light purple colored eyes. The next was Lessil, she was more like Dahn, dark haired and brown eyes and her skin was not as milky white as Mora or Wisteria, but at least she was not marred with any freckles. Many said that Lessil was pretty, but Wisteria was often commented being the loveliest thing in the West and often overshadowed her younger sister.

For many years Dahn and Mora spent together, until Dahn passed of old age. Mora, being a fairy of long life, withered in vitality after her beloved died and passed shortly after.

As to what became of their daughters; Wisteria loved adventure and began traveling outside their home near Bree by her early twenties. She was not one to be settled down, even to the many handsome suitors who begged for her hand. No, she traveled to her heart's content and wherever it may lead her. Lessil, on the other hand, continued living just outside of Bree as a healer. That was her gift and she was very good at it. Her mother was also something of a healer and knew the uses to herbs and remedies and how to soothe pain and discomfort through the use of skilled hands only. Mora taught Lessil in kind and Lessil used her knowledge to help others.

Lessil's talents were well enough known on the western side of the Misty Mountains and it because of that very purpose she caught the attention of a wandering wizard.

* * *

Lessil combed the forest near her home. She was looking for cattails, yarrow and nettles that she'd just run out of. So many had come to her with upset stomachs that only her teas could settle them. It was the start of spring, so she did not know just why everyone seemed to be having troubles. But they were and Lessil cured them and now she was out restocking.

_Just a couple more nettles. I should have brought my gloves. _Lessil groaned as the leaves, yet again, scratched at her skin. Only a couple times did they draw blood and luckily this time was not one of them.

She finished her picking and placed them in the basket along with the cattails and yarrow. Leaning back on her heels, Lessil gazed at her fingers, gently stroking them with her thumbs trying to ease the irritated skin. Her fingers were bright pink and she counted three cuts. They were shallow at least and already the blood stopped running and was crusted over. The tips of her fingers were calloused too. It wasn't new to Lessil, but she stared at them dully.

From the time Lessil and her sister grew into their woman's bodies, many of the folk in Bree worried for her father that his daughters would never make a suitable match for any man. Wisteria, while extraordinarily beautiful, was too much of a wild child. And sometimes Lessil's healing skills unnerved the townsfolk. Many a time, when any other wisemen would give up a person for dead, Lessil could place her hands upon the dying and cure their ailments. It made the people uncomfortable and glad that she did not live so close to town. None could tame Wisteria and none would be comfortable to love Lessil.

But Dahn only laughed at the townsfolk and to his daughters said, _No man will ever be worthy of you, my precious girls._ He told the two of them that marriage was not needed unless they found someone their hearts could love fully and completely, just as he and Mora did.

And at twenty-nine years of age, it seemed like Lessil's window of marriage had come and gone without even the slightest of opportunities. But it hardly mattered to her, she got by fine on her own. She grew the food she ate in her gardens, got milk from her goat, baked her own bread, caught fish in the stream near her house and trapped rabbits and squirrels in the forest. Anything else she could need was made in small payments for her remedies.

But looking at her hands just oddly reminded her that she felt like _something_ was missing from her life. She told herself she was fine with her solitude. People came by every once in a while for medicines and some did have the decency to speak with her, mostly the people who had known her father. But Lessil could tell it was more out of pity than anything. Though there was one person who came around every once in a while that had a genuine interest in her company, even if it's been about a year since she saw him.

She made to rise, grabbing her wicker basket, but stopped as she heard movement coming from behind her. In all her years of coming, there were no big beasts that could rip her apart and the movement was not of a small animal. More like that of a man. And no one save for her entered in this forest. Slowly, she reached at her waist where she had a small dagger.

With a quick breath, Lessil spun around to face her stalker, dagger in front of her.

"I highly doubt you could maim me with that."

Lessil dropped her arm, her shoulders also releasing tension. "Gandalf, you startled me."

The grey wizard stood a few paces behind her, both hands around his staff that was propped on the ground. He had a bemused twinkle in his eye as he looked upon the young woman. Lessil was so much more guarded than her older sister, even her mother. It must have come from her mortal nature. "That was not intent, dear one."

Lessil sheathed the dagger at her hip, grabbing the handle of her wicker basket and stood. "To what do I owe this visit?" she asked, walking toward him. _Somehow my thoughts must have conjured him here, _she thought with a smile.

"Do I need a reason to visit a friend?" the wizard asked incredulously.

"Well, it's only often that you have one," Lessil answered with a knowing smile.

Gandalf laughed, turning to walk next to her as they made their way out of the forest. "Well, if you must know, I do have a specific reason for this visit."

"Which is?" Lessil prodded.

"Must you insist on being so hasty?" Gandalf countered.

Lessil grinned. _I'm not going to fall for any of your wit and tricks._ "Yes."

Gandalf shook his head. "Can this not wait once we're inside?"

Lessil jumped in front of the wizard, making him stop. "You've already started telling me, so why stop?" she said.

Gandalf stepped around her and she let him. "Well, if you must know _now_, I'm looking for someone to share an _adventure._"

"Adventure?" Lessil asked. "And you're coming to me? You should go find Wisty, you won't even have to ask before she says yes." From the time Lessil was able to talk, she was never quite able to pronounce her older sister's full name, always calling her Wisty. And eventually the name stuck. She loved it actually and for many long years, Wisteria was known in Bree as Wisty.

"But I do not know her current whereabouts," Gandalf answered. Lessil somehow doubted this. Gandalf was never one to be out of any loop. He was up to something. "Last I knew she was in Gondor," he continued.

Hmm, that sounded interesting. Wonder how much of a whirlwind she would create there?

"But I am coming to you, not Wisty," Gandalf said. "But first, a gathering is in order."

"Gathering?" Lessil inquired.

"Well, I would like you to meet your traveling companions first and they you," Gandalf told her. "A few dwarves coming for dinner. Is that fine with you?"

_Dwarves?_ "Oh-kay," Lessil answered a bit uncertainly. _At least it will only be a few._

"Tonight at six-thirty then?" Gandalf arranged.

Lessil took a little bit to answer that one, and nor did she give a verbal reply. She simply nodded, very slowly. She hadn't had guests over for dinner in a _long _time. Ever really.

* * *

Since she said yes, there was work to be done. Luckily her house was always kept in good order and there were little chores to be done so she'd have time to bathe. And she still had some of her nicer dresses.

_So, first milk Lady._ Lessil made a mental list, naming her goat first. _Then wash the herbs and let them dry. Bring out the plates, cups and utensils._ Haven't had a need for so many in such a long time that she was surprised to still have a few sets. _Still have some meat tucked away. Harvest the garden...and that should be about it._

So she immediately got to work, though the herbs came first as drying them would take the entire day and the longer they held out to dry, the sooner she could have them stored away. Then she milked Lady and proceeded out into the gardens for more food to set at the table.

Lessil's garden was a miracle if she did say so herself. When Dahn and Mora married, Mora brought soil from her home to plant in the gardens and it worked wonders. No matter what the season, any plants and fruits and vegetables could grow strong and healthy and sweeter than in any other garden. Lessil could plant her summer seeds in winter and not have to worry about them withering or spoiling. So she gathered her foods. There was enough for a large stew, she could bake some bread and cook two rabbits and three squirrels and the fish. That would be enough right? Gandalf only said a few.

Hopefully dwarves wouldn't have too big an appetite.

But Lessil took some time away from her planning to bathe in the hot spring behind her home. Another magical perk her mother had brought along. Most would say that Mora was quite spoiled. But Lessil was hardly going to complain. The warm water did much for her aching neck and shoulders. Once done, she dressed in her nicest gown. A bit plain, but the blue looked nice on her.

She got started on the stew and began slowly cooking the fish. She wasn't quite sure about her own appetite and simply munched on an apple as she waited for the first guests to arrive.

The sun had just begun to set when a loud knock came at the door. Lessil jumped from her seat, carefully smoothing out her dress before opening the door.

A dwarf stood outside, quite tall - a few inches shorter than Lessil - and rather intimidating. The top of his head was bald with dark tattoos and even darker hair that hung thick, coarse and straight.

"Dwalin," the dwarf introduced himself with a light bow. "At your service."

Lessil gave a small curtsy. "Lessil." She stepped aside and he made his way in. She looked for any others, but it seemed he was the first for now. How many was she expecting, exactly? Gandalf never gave a number.

"Where is it? Down here?" Dwalin asked, tossing his cloak at her. "He said there would be food."

"Supper is in the kitchen," Lessil answered, dropping the cloak on the chair nearby and hesitantly leading him through her cottage and to the table where the fish was just about done. She laid down a plate of fish, boiled onions and potatoes, some slices of cheese, a few cuts of fig and a separate plate and bowl of biscuits and stew. Oh, and a mug of ale from the cellar.

Dwalin immediately dug in quite greedily - with more of a hungry groan than a thank you. Not so much as the never-before-had-a-good-meal way, but more like I-really-really-really-like-good-food way. Lessil went back to munching on her apple as it seemed eating was more important than conversation. That didn't matter as Lessil truly did not know what she could possibly say to a dwarf. She absent-mindedly tucked her hair behind her ear.

"I was told we would be hosted by a fairy, not an elf."

Lessil looked at Dwalin who now had his eyes narrowed, looking at her ears. Her hand flew up to them, pointed just as elf ears were. She and Wisty were both born with fairy ears. But fairy ears had sharper points, so she was told. "Elves aren't the only beings with pointed ears," she told him. "And I'm half fairy." She moved her hair back to covering her ears. Most the people in Bree didn't like her ears either. She always had them carefully covered when she went into town. Now it seemed she had to do the same in her own home with this company.

"Are you an elf-friend?" His tone was quite patronizing in her opinion.

"Can't say. I've never met one," Lessil answered.

Before he could make another comment, there was another knock on the door. Lessil rose from the chair, wondering if hosting dwarves was a good idea after all.

Another dwarf, white haired and beared this time, stood outside her door. A bit shorter than Dwalin and less intimidating. "Balin, at your service." He gave the same bow that Dwalin had before.

"Good evening," Lessil greeted.

"Yes it is," Balin agreed, looking up at the dark blue sky. Clouds were beginning to form. "Though I think it might rain later." He stepped into the house. "Am I late?"

"No, you're quite early," Lessil answered him. She escorted him into the kitchen were they found Dwalin with his hand in the cookie jar.

Balin howled in laughter. "Evening brother," he chuckled as he sauntered on over the the taller dwarf. Lessil quirked a brow. _These two are brothers?_

Dwalin broke out into a grin. "By my beard. You're shorter and whiter than last we met."

Balin chuckled. "Whiter, but not shorter. Still sharp enough for both of us." The joined in a few chuckles, gasping each other's shoulders and proceeded to bash themselves with each other's noggins.

Lessil flinched at the sound, but neither of them seemed to feel any pain. She shook of any shock and proceeded to set Balin a plate similar to his brother's and gave Dwalin more ale and a couple seed cakes since he was finished with his meal. He actually ate the head of the fish. Just popped it into his mouth and crunched it! Gross!

Another knock came at the door. _What, are they all coming in packs?_ Lessil thought as she opened to door to two young dwarves. One had yellow hair and the other dark. The yellow haired one seemed the older as his facial hair was braided with clasps even. And for the dark haired one, Lessil would have thought him a man if not for his short height. He only had scruff around his lips and no braiding on him whatsoever, unlike his counterpart at the door. Odd thing was, Lessil found them to be quite...handsome. She'd never met dwarves until now and comparing these two with Dwalin and Balin, these dwarves were very charming to the eye.

"Fili," the fair haired one said.

"And Kili," continued the dark haired one.

Then together they said the same thing Dwalin and Balin did, even with the bow. "At your service."

Twin grins sprouted on their faces as Kili continued again. "You must be Miss Lossel."

"Lessil," she corrected, curtsying and allowing them in.

"Beg your pardon, _Lessil,_" Kili said, gently taking her hand in his. His hands were rougher than that of a man's, but they felt warmer and surprisingly more gentle. "It's not every day I get to meet a maiden as beautiful as yourself." With that, he brought her hand to his lips and softly kissed it.

Lessil was stunned. No one had ever said such courtly words to her. A fierce blush rose to her cheeks and she didn't know just how she was to respond. Was she to thank him? Give a compliment back? She couldn't think of one. Well, he was the most handsome dwarf she'd seen, but he was only the fourth she'd _ever _seen.

But Fili excused her from any words. "Now brother, stop dallying with our hostess." He nudged his brother into the house and Fili let him, but not without giving Lessil a smile and a wink.

The two proceeded to drop their cloaks and weapons onto the chair nearby. And boy did Fili have a lot of knives. What did he need _all_ of them for? Balin and Dwalin came to meet the new arrivals and Dwalin even threw an arm around Kili's shoulders. "Come, give us a hand," he told the young dwarf. "We'll never fit everyone here. We need to renovate."

"Everyone?" Lessil inquired. "How many of you are coming? Gandalf never gave a number."

"There should be about thirteen of us," Balin answered. "Not including Gandalf or yourself, of course."

Her jaw dropped. Thirteen? And Gandalf thought that was a _few?_ But...but, she didn't have nearly enough food! Thirteen!? With more reaction than thought, she set plates for both Fili and Kili and told them to make themselves comfortable while she went to her gardens and brought in more food. She had just finished washing them with Kili offering a hand to cut them up and put them on to boil when she heard more knocking at the door. Except this was more like a pounding. Lessil worried that her door would buckle under such force.

She moved toward the door, but Kili stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Wait," he said, bringing a hand to her her head and pulling her hair back over her ears. She'd forgotten that it was tucked again. "I may look fondly upon an fairy maid, but I doubt the others will do the same. They'll think you an elf."

Lessil quirked a brow. "But you can tell? Dwalin thought I was an elf," she asked.

Kili smirked. "My uncle has met a few in his youth. Enough to know elf ears point up while fairy ears make a more curved one. And no elf wears trinkets on their ears."

Lessil nearly forgot about the little gold wires that rounded her lobes like vines. They'd been a gift from her mother when she turned fifteen. Yes, they were something of a fairy custom, giving to all young fairies once they reached adulthood. Though Wisty and Lessil reached it far earlier than others. Not only that, but the wires Lessil wore were quite plain in comparison to other fairies. Wisty had an adornment that curved around her entire ear and one of her mother's older cousins had a curled earpiece that that sprouted gold outlines of small leaves.

She was brought out of her musings when the pounding sounded again and she raced for the door before it was splintered. Yanking it open, she only had a moment to leap back in surprise as several dwarves tumbled face first to the floor, making a clumsy pile in her doorway. The only one not to topple over was Gandalf. He seemed amused at the situation and the pile of groaning dwarves like he was a father to this bunch of unruly boys.

"You said a few, Gandalf," Lessil deadpanned.

"I guess I should have said it would be a merry gathering," the wizard chuckled.

It took more time than what Lessil deemed necessary for the remaining dwarves to rise from her doormat. They all introduced themselves; more brothers, Oin and Gloin; Dori, Nori and Ori; and Bofur and Bombur along with their cousin Bifur.

A few of them made something of an impression on her. Bombur was the first, mainly because of how large he was. That and his beard was braided into a thick rope that hung like a long necklace at his torso. Bofur was next as he strode up to Lessil and introduced himself with a kiss on both her cheeks. Then there was Ori who seemed to be younger than Fili and Kili if only for his wide brown eyes and even wider smile with cute dimples. He had blushed so fiercely at Lessil that his older brother Nori had to introduce for him. And then there was Bifur who spoke none of the common tongue because of an accident that left an ax head in his temple. How he still lived was an amazement to her.

They all made way to the kitchen and Lessil was indeed surprised that they all managed to squeeze around the small table. But not before they raided the pantry dry - and the cellar - as well as the food that Lessil just brought in from the garden.

Lessil only watched on as the dwarves dined - quite loudly and with very, very poor manners - and threw food in the air. Bofur tossed a boiled egg across the table right into his brother's mouth. The dwarves all cheered at that. Fili even walked over the table and around the plates of food - nearly stepping on most of it - since it was too cramped for him to go around. Lessil wondered at how the wooden table didn't break. At least it wasn't Bombur, then it would have definitely broken.

She exhaustively looked back to her hand, in which held another apple. She didn't have much an appetite, but hosting a bunch of dwarves took a lot of energy on her part. She took a big bite and during mid-chew she was amazed by the sudden silence that took over the kitchen. But it was only due to the dwarves being in the middle of their drink. They guzzled their mugs of ale so forcefully that some of it actually spilled onto their beards. That started some sort of belching competition in which it was actually sweet-faced Ori who made quite a big one.

Then they proceeded to knock around the now empty dishes and utensils until they were evenly stacked in nice piles. Lessil didn't even have the time to shout in worry that her things would be broken before they were done. She only stood against the wall with a hand on her chest, willing her heart to calm as they all laughed jovially.

Lessil barely had a moment to calm down as the dwarves began singing. A couple of them had even brought musical instruments, though most of them just sung along as they pounded their feet and fists with the beat. Wow, they moved on pretty quick. She watched the pounding flurry of pounding and the chanting singing of a dozen dwarves in song that was foreign to her. It was a sort of stunned fascination at the merriment of these dwarves in her home.

She could almost forget the food strewn on the floor.

At the end of their song, a firm rap came at the door. "Wait, this isn't all of you?" Lessil looked around the table at the large group of dwarves. She never did go around counting, but apparently these were only twelve.

Gandalf went to the door with the rest of them at his heels.

The door opened to a dwarf of long ebony locks, lined with bits of silver that was a perfect mesh of regal and raggedy. A few braids and clasps were woven into his hair and that of his beard which was short and well groomed just as any dwarf. Sharp, angular features were set in a stern, commanding way. And his eyes were a piercing grayish blue. Lessil had thought Kili was handsome, but this dwarf was striking.

"Allow me, Lessil, to introduce the leader of our company: Thorin Oakenshield," Gandalf said.

The beautiful dwarf, Thorin, stepped into the cottage, untying the cloak from his shoulders and tossing it to Kili. He even had a fur-lined coat underneath. This dwarf was a king, or a lord at least. "So, this is the fairy," he said, giving Lessil a quick glance. Something in her just felt scrutinized.

"Lessil Ringali," she greeted with a curtsy. Often the fairies went by titles for what house they belonged to. Ringali was the smallest of fairy families descended from Nemiros, a powerful fairy lord of the ancient times, who gained his powers from the element of water. He was titled Ringali, which meant Water-bearer in the fairy tongue. He was also known to be a great healer, saving people from the threshold of death. It was a Ringali who ruled over one of the two fairy realms and was the second cousin, once removed of Lessil's mother.

Thorin seemed to recognize the name, but whether he was impressed or even intrigued by it was uncertain. "She looks more like a gardener than a burglar," he remarked.

Lessil was suddenly aware of the dirt beneath her finger nails even as she'd scrubbed mercilessly to clean them. She clasped them behind her back instead of looking at them. "I'm a healer, actually." And not only that. "What do you mean by burglar?"

"You have the fairy's gift of walking unseen, do you not?" Thorin asked.

Murmurs went around the other twelve dwarves as they looked at her with new fascination. "By my beard," Bofur exclaimed, "you can be invisible? Show us!"

Lessil shook her head. Yes, even as a half-fairy, she did have the gift, but Bofur had it all wrong. "It doesn't work like that. I can't do it if you can already see me."

"Why not?" Thorin scoffed.

"How can I hide from you if you already know where I am," Lessil answered flatly. "It is the gift of being unseen so long as no one knows I'm there in the first place. I can use the gift now, but you would still see me." Why he wanted to know about her gift, she did not know. It wasn't exactly a secret, but why was he so curious?

She could tell that Thorin wanted to make some sort of rude remark - for a handsome dwarf, he was quite haughty, more so than Dwalin. But Gandalf spoke for him. "Then let's move into the kitchen so she can show us."

Lessil watched as the dwarves wandered back into her kitchen and stared ruefully at their leader who was more sour than a lemon. Did she have to offer him something to eat as well? Was there even any food left that wasn't on the floor? If anything, his dwarves can gather something for him to eat. There might be some stew left.

But she had something else to think about. If they wanted to see how her gift worked, then she would show them. She closed her eyes and pulled at the magic within her. _I am a shadow. I pass unseen by the eyes who seek me. I have no scent. I make no noise. I walk unseen._

From the little kitchen, Thorin was growing impatient. What was taking the fairy girl so long? Was she having difficulties because of her mortal blood? Gandalf said she was only half fairy. This was a mistake. The little waif wouldn't last long in the wild. She was too gentle. He couldn't spend his time, or any of his dwarves', worrying about her. "Are you going to show us or not?" he called.

"No need to shout, I'm right here."

Her voice came from right behind him, but Thorin turned and saw nothing. He heard Nori ask where she was from behind him.

"Here I am."

Thorin felt a small hand rest on his shoulder. He looked to see the faintest shadow and like a ripple of water, the pale skin of her hand began to form right in front of his eyes. He followed her blue sleeved arm as it appeared and soon the rest of her body came with it. She looked down at him with slightly amused eyes as if she was proud of herself.

"Where are you?" Kili asked from the table.

She turned toward the table and must have released the enchantment entirely because a string of gasps rang from the dwarves.

So she did have what they needed. Now they were to ask for her help.

* * *

**Yes, I know I put this as a Thorin/OC romance and don't worry it will be. It just needs some time (okay, quite a bit) for that to warm up. And with Kili's flirting, I couldn't help it, it just came about. But then you see how he shamelessly flirts with elf maidens in Rivendell, so yeah. Kili's gonna be doing a lot of flirting with Lessil. And she's quite flattered by it since no male has ever treated her so fondly (other than her father, but he doesn't count). But she's not going to gain any romantic inclinations toward him I assure you.**


	2. Talks of an Adventure

**As you've probably guessed by now, Bilbo is not going to be in this story. And since Lessil can become invisible at will, she has no use for the Ring. I know that this goes completely against canon, but this is FanFiction, I feel free to take a few liberties. Hope you enjoy how this pans out.**

**Thanks to all how have reviewed, favored and followed this story. Your support means the world to me!**

* * *

**~~**II**~~**

**Talks of an Adventure**

"So you call yourself a healer. I take it you don't do much fighting."

Lessil crossed her arms in front of her and fought not to huff. Again, she was under the scrutiny of this arrogant, but handsome, dwarf. Sure she had a knife and could brandish it...but that wasn't the same as actually fighting. Lessil had spent most her time with her studies under her mother while Wisty had actually learned to shoot a bow from their father.

But in all her years, Lessil never felt interested in fighting and weapons. She was a healer and they helped people, not hurt them. "Never had the need to." she answered Thorin's question.

Thorin wasn't surprised. Though she is a fairy, a Ringali even, she was also a daughter of Men. Women-folk didn't fight. They were too gentle, too easily frightened. But they needed her gift. How much though?

"Begging your pardon," Miss Ringali asked. "But what did you mean before by not looking like a burglar?"

_Might as well give her the answer. _"We are in need of someone to reacquire something that was stolen from my family," Thorin told her.

"Will they not give it back?" she asked tentatively.

"No," Thorin replied curtly. And he did not need to tell her that it was a dragon who stole from them. They didn't need her fainting.

It was Gandalf's turn to speak with her. "Let me tell you the tale of the Lonely Mountain.

"Erebor, the mightiest and richest of all kingdoms, stands far to the east. Over one hundred and fifty years ago, this dwarven kingdom stood tall and its people knew little or no hardship. For even the simplest of miners and smiths and cooks were paid handsomely with the great wealth within the mountain. They need not even grow their food for trade was ever open. And the poorest of dwarves could tinker and make beautiful things just for amusement. The halls were filled with glorious armors, jewels, toys, adornments and more gold than was countable.

"The ruler of this mountain was Thror, King Under the Mountain. He was named the mighty king of dwarves, for in his hall shined what was known as the heart of the mountain: the Arkenstone. Founded over a thousand years ago, it was named The King's Jewel and gave to the King Under the Mountain answered to each and every dwarf lord. King Thror ruled with utter surety and never doubted his house wouldn't endure.

"But evil fell upon the mountain. For gold has a way of bringing ill favors, both from outside and within. The gold had captured the attention of a beast named Smaug who rained fire down upon the mountain, and the city of Dale to its south, claiming the treasure within as his own."

Lessil listened to Gandalf's story and it almost seemed like a bed time tale. A kingdom swelled with riches that was sacked by some vile beast. "That is a nice story," she commented.

"It is not just a story," Thorin hissed. "It is the history of the dwarves and my _grandfather's _legacy."

"You mean, King Thror was your grandfather?" Lessil breathed. It made sense. Thorin had something of a kingly air to him.

Thorin didn't answer. Instead he sat at the head of the table where Nori had set him a bowl of stew and mug of ale.

There was a somewhat awkward silence for Lessil as she listened to the dwarves talk. It seemed they'd all but forgotten her.

"So what went on in the meeting of Ered Luin?" Balin asked. "Did they all come?"

"Aye," Thorin answered, "invoices from all seven kingdoms."

"And what do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say?" Dwalin asked. "Is Dain with us?"

Thorin paused before answering. "They will not come. They say this quest is ours and ours alone."

The dwarves grumbled around the table.

"But," Thorin continued, "I would take any of you dwarves over an army of the Iron Hills, for when I called, you answered. You have shown honor, loyalty and a willing heart. I am glad and can ask no less."

The twelve dwarves all beamed at him, some agreeing that they would do no less.

"And what is it you plan to do on this quest?" Lessil asked. "Other than my apparent burglary?"

Gandalf pulled a small fold of parchment from his robes and unfolded it on the table. It was a map. The top was labeled The Lonely Mountain and at the side there was some form of writing that pointed to the side of the mountain.

"It is time for the dwarves to take back the Lonely Mountain," Gloin said. "Oin has read to portents," half the dwarves groaned and rolled their eyes as if this was something they heard all the time and were sick of hearing. But Gloin continued on, "and the portents _say:_ it is time."

Oin continued this time. "Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold." He looked pointedly around the table to the dwarves who groaned at him. "'When the birds of yore, return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end.'"

"And how are we supposed take back the mountain with only thirteen of us?" Balin stated. "We hardly have thirteen of the best or brightest among us."

That started grumbling around the table. Perhaps because he was an elder dwarf that he had the nerve - and bit of a right - to say that, but that didn't mean the others were happy to hear it.

"Who you calling dim-witted?" Nori shouted. And then a whole row began at Lessil's table where dwarves leaned over and shouted among each other. No punches had been thrown yet, but she didn't want to wait for it.

"Please, please stop," Lessil cried, but none of them heard her.

Instead, it was Thorin who shouted for all of them to quiet and they plopped right down in their seats and hushed. Quite quickly too. "If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too?" he exclaimed. "No one has seen the likes of Smaug in sixty years. Others may look to the mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. They may want to claim the mountain before us. The vast wealth of our people may now rest unprotected, so are we going to sit back and wait for this? Or are we going to take back our home?" Cheers rang from his dwarves and now, with utter surety, he knew the undying loyalty of these dwarves.

But there was Balin, who still held on to reason. "You're forgetting, the front gate is sealed. There is no way for us to enter the mountain even if we do get there in one piece."

Gandalf piped in this time. "That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true." He pulled out an iron key from his sleeve. He pointed to the runes at the left of the mountain on the map. "These runes here speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls. It was made for the safety of the king. The trouble though, will be finding it because dwarf doors are invisible when closed."

The wizard looked to Thorin and handed him the key. "I was given this by your father for safe-keeping. But it's only the key. I know not where to door is and nor how to find it. Those questions we do need answered, but I think I know of someone who can help along our way."

Thorin took the key from the wizard. So they had a way in. It seemed almost too good to be true. He turned to the fairy. "When we get in, that's where we'll need your gift. There is a single treasure that you will go in and acquire for me."

But Lessil was looking at the map and growing quite pale. Gandalf had never specified just what kind of beast Smaug was. "Is that Smaug?" she pointed to the red fire-breathing, winged-lizard over the mountain. She had a strong hunch...but maybe she was wrong.

Please let it be wrong.

"Yes, that is the beast, Smaug," Gandalf answered gravely.

"A-a d-d-dragon?" Lessil stuttered. "Y-you want me to steal from a _dragon?_"

Ori jumped to his feet. "I'm not afraid. I'm up for it. I'll give him a taste of dwarish iron right up his jacksie!"

Lessil stared at Ori. That was the foolish bravery of an ignorant dwarf! He couldn't face a dragon! The others seemed to think so too as Dori shoved him back down to his seat and scolded his foolishness.

"I can't steal from a dragon!" Lessil cried. "Go find someone else!" In a panic, she stormed out of the kitchen. Gandalf went after her.

Thorin watched her go. It didn't surprise him that she would shy away from such a task. Even the bravest of dwarves had reason to reel in fright from a dragon. In his youth, he had barely kept his wits about him as the dragon took the mountain.

Not only that, but it was a long time indeed since fairies had done any fighting. Their males and females were great warriors of old, but now they kept to their solitude. They put down their swords and armor and took up music and magic of the earth. Thorin did not hold it against them. Their history was nearly written in blood, especially those southeast of the Iron Hills. The only time Thorin had met fairies was when his grandfather had exchanged crafts with them. Fairies had an excellent talent for weaving the most delicate and intricate pieces. Much like the ear adornments that the girl wore now.

She was the only fairy who would be capable of assisting them. None of the others would grant them an audience, let alone stomach the idea of facing a dragon.

"It seems we've lost our burglar," Balin mused. "Probably for the best."

"Aye," Dwalin agreed. "The wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves."

Dwalin was right. A gentle fairy was not meant for the wild. She was not a hardy warrior. She was too soft and Thorin would be a fool to deny that she was indeed beautiful. But they could not waste time on protecting some damsel.

"No," Kili interrupted. "Let me speak with her." He made his way across the table.

As Kili jumped down from the table, Thorin grabbed his arm. "We can't afford to have her here, even if you can convince her."

"Uncle, we need her," Kili implored. "We have to try. Fili and I can toughen her up a bit. She's willing to look you in the eye at least."

He was right. If only a little. Miss Ringali did have some spark. "Fine. Go."

* * *

"No, Gandalf. I cannot do this," Lessil stammered as she paced outside her cottage. She needed air. This was crazy. How could they ask _anyone_ to do such an impossible task?

"And why not?" the wizard huffed.

Lessil stopped and glared at him. "You expect me to face a dragon for a dozen and one dwarves whom I just met."

"I do not expect you to fight it," Gandalf implored. "Only to sneak under it and retrieve a stone."

"From a mountain that is half a world away," Lessil snapped. "Go find Wisty. Perhaps she will be more inclined to hear you."

"May I ask you a simple question, my dear?" Gandalf inquired.

And why was the wizard changing the subject? They were talking about a dragon on the other side of the Misty Mountains and how Gandalf wants to ask a simple question? Sometimes she really got tired to the gray wizard's antics. Lessil rolled her eyes. "And what is that?"

"Are you happy?"

She looked to the wizard with a bewildered look on her face. What did he mean by that? She got along fine. She had a nice house and gardens and never lacked in anything she needed. The people in Bree were never unkind to her, even if she made them a bit uncomfortable. She had an apprentice even who came once or twice a week. Wisty was content in traveling the world and Lessil was content in her healing. "What kind of question is that, Gandalf?" she exclaimed.

"Will you not answer it?" the wizard merely stated.

Lessil groaned. "Yes, I am happy just the way I am."

"Yes, yes, you are _happy_ all alone here with no one visiting you unless they are ill or have some sort of injury. You are happy being separated from you kinfolk. You're happy that you only see your sister maybe once a year. You're happy at the prospect of spending the rest of your life alone."

Lessil listened to the wizard prattle on, growing more angry with each sentence. Fine, she didn't travel to the fairy realm of Nengalad to see her kinsfolk. It's just...she never found the time. And Wisty was free to go as she pleased, Lessil was hardly going to hold her down. It didn't matter how little she saw her sister because when she did, Wisty was always so very happy. Her excitement was contagious. And Lessil was _fine._

"What are you trying to say, Gandalf?" she snapped. "If you are trying to talk me into this you are doing a poor job."

The Gandalf sighed. "I apologize, my dear. I honestly did not wish to upset you. But I visit you and every time it seems that you are disappointed when I leave. You are lonely. Exhausted as you may seem, you enjoy having these guests. Even if they may be a rowdy sort."

Despite her anger, Lessil huffed a laugh. Yes, thirteen dwarves who cleaned her of all her food and left half of it on the floor. Who were only silent as they drank and spilt ale down their beards. Who laughed heartily and sang loudly. They all knew each other so well and they were so happy. Kili thought her beautiful and Bofur had greeted her fondly even though he just met her. Dwalin may be a bit rough and Thorin more so. But some of them were indeed nice.

"Lessil."

Both wizard and fairy turned to see Kili in the doorway. Slowly, the young dwarf approached Lessil. "I'm sorry about my uncle. He's pretty rough around the edges and he's seen some hard times."

Lessil was a bit more interested in the first part than the following words. If it weren't for their resemblance, she would not have believed that sweet Kili was related to the stone-cold Thorin. "I've met my fair share of prickly men, Kili. Don't worry about Thorin," she said, her arms crossed over her chest. Yes, there were some men that rose vile to Lessil's mouth. They usually came around the Prancing Pony and skulked about. She never got into any trouble at least.

Kili nodded. "And I know that the dragon frightens you. I would be a fool to say I wasn't. But we have Gandalf with us, that counts for something. He must have killed a dragon or three in his time."

They both turned to the wizard, the dwarf with a more admirable look and the fairy a doubting one. And by Gandalf's flustered expression, Lessil believed that the wizard felled no dragons in his life time. But Kili didn't seem to need an answer on how many dragons the wizard _may_ have slain.

"But just like my uncle, this is my family's legacy too," Kili continued. "The kingdom of my mother's grandfather. Had I been given the chance to reclaim it, I would without hesitation. And I have that chance. We wouldn't have come here if we didn't need your talent. You're the only fairy to greet us and hear our tale. Gandalf says the others won't hear it, that they don't like to fight or get mixed up in the business of others."

So she was their only hope. It rung like fantasy to Lessil. Gandalf even made it seem so. Why didn't they just leave the dragon well enough alone? It didn't seem like they were poor or struggling, not with the nice clothing and cloaks a few of them wore. Sure they didn't have the legendary riches of the Lonely Mountain, but was that gold worth risking their lives?

Kili stepped closer so he stood just a foot away from Lessil. "If you're afraid of being in the wild, my brother and I will protect you. We'll pay you handsomely to get the Arkenstone back to us, at the very least. I swear this on my life."

Lessil looked down at the dwarf. He was so youthful and earnest. A prince of the mountain that he wanted to help reclaim. He looked up at her with warm eyes, almost like a puppy. "Do you think you can show me those pretty brown eyes and I'll melt at your feet?" she asked ruefully.

Kili grinned. "Well, I would not protest it."

Lessil chuckled half-heartedly. She looked back to Gandalf who gave her a light smile. He didn't try to convince her. This was her decision. They would leave one way or another. The difference would be if they gained one more member of the group. "Just get the Arkenstone?"

"Right from under the dragon's nose," Kili said.

Lessil gazed up at the roof of her cottage and sighed. A dragon. To steal from a dragon. She must be crazy.

* * *

Having long finished their eating, the dwarves mingled throughout the cottage. The scent of herbs seemed to cling to the air and all the furniture. This girl was a healer, Oin assured. He could pick out many of the scents that wafted through the cottage. And he was even impressed when he stumbled upon a journal of labeled herbs with hand drawn pictures and one with a collection of remedies that were even foreign to the dwarf medic.

Many of the other dwarves collected in the sitting room with the hearth fire burning. The smell of pipeweed began to permeate the air and join the scent of herbs. Gloin drained the rest of his mug and effectively the rest of the fairy's ale.

Thorin and Balin were still in the kitchen. "You don't have to do this Thorin." Balin said. "We are not so bad off as we were in the beginning. You have built us a life in the Blue Mountains. None would ever say that you have done dishonor to your house."

Thorin was grateful for Balin. He'd been there when Smaug took their home and he was one of the few who understood Thorin's grief. In the beginning the dwarves had been crippled over the loss of their home. Many fled to the Iron Hills, but not all of them could take refuge there. Thorin had spent years traveling through villages of men and doing whatever work he could for a bite to eat. A dwarf prince who didn't even have a place to shelter himself for many a time. No matter what Balin and the others thought, that was a disgrace.

Not only that, but so soon after he lost his home, he'd lost his grandfather, father and even his young brother. In his own lifetime, Thorin had lost so much. His family had lost so much. Was Fili, his sister-son and heir, to be a mere dwarf lord when he could be a king? No, he could give the two of them better. He loved the two of them like his own sons. Not only that, but his people deserved better. Their long suffering was finally given a reprieve of contentment, but that didn't mean they now had to settle on lesser things.

"From my grandfather, to my father, this," he held up the key, "has come to me. They dreamt of the day that the dwarves of Erebor could reclaim their homeland. There is no choice, Balin. Not for me."

Balin nodded slightly. But even if the quest seemed hopeless, the dwarves weren't without it in them. "Then we are with you, laddie. We will see it done."

Just then, Kili returned to the kitchen, pulling Miss Ringali by the hand. She looked scared, but resigned. She looked Thorin right in the eye and said, "I'll do it."

"Laddies," Balin called throughout the cottage. "We have our burglar." Cheers rang out from the dwarves, but it did nothing to calm her.

Thorin wrote up a small contract for Lessil to sign. Cash upon delivery "for retrieval of the Arkenstone of Erebor" that would be up to, but not exceeding, one fourteenth of total profits. All travel expenses will be paid for as well as funeral arrangements - Lessil insisted to move over that part quickly - would be recognized. Thorin signed the paper with Balin there as witness and with a deep breath, Lessil signed at the bottom.

"Now, we leave tomorrow at eleven." Thorin stated.

_Tomorrow? _"Wait one moment!" Lessil exclaimed.

"Is that too soon for you?" Thorin sneered.

Lessil shook her head. _This dwarf._ "This morning, I had no idea I was going to be traveling half way across the world. I need time to prepare. I have a house to clean, and hopefully get someone to look after it. There's a garden that needs tending and I have a goat who needs daily milking and have you seen the mess you've made in my house? Give me three days."

Thorin didn't care about the state of a little cottage. "I'll give you one day."

Lessil glared down at him. "Three," she snapped.

"Two and we leave at morn on the third," Thorin said. That was going to be it.

"Fine."

* * *

The dwarves didn't stay at her house that night, unless they wanted to help clean. Lessil hardly wanted to do any cleaning herself, but the least she did was pick up all the food on the floor. The rest she could deal with tomorrow. She was exhausted.

The first thing she did next day was call on Margrit who had been her student for the last two years. Together they cleaned the cottage spotless and harvested some of the garden. Then they worked on shortening some of Lessil's travel wear. The two dresses she had that were nice and sturdy could be shortened to just above her knee and could travel well. her trousers and leggings would be fine too. She couldn't bring her herb journals, those would be staying here with Margrit. But Lessil knew it all from memory so she hardly needed it. She didn't need to worry all that much about food since the dwarves said they'll cover it. But a few apples wouldn't hurt.

"And you know where they're found? Should I show you?" Lessil asked Margrit, making sure the young girl knew where to find the nettles.

"I've been there with you before, I can find them," Margrit assured her.

"And you won't forget to milk Lady," Lessil told her.

"And harvest the garden and help myself to the spring? Yes, don't worry. I'm glad you're letting me stay here. It's crowded at home." As one of six children, Margrit had to share a room with three sisters, though one of them recently got married. Lessil needed someone to watch the house and who better than Margrit who knew it best and can still be of help to the village with remedies.

"What am I to tell your sister if she visits?" Margrit asked.

Lessil paused. What could she tell Wisty? "That I'm going on an adventure."

"I thought that was her soft spot," Margrit said.

"Not this time," Lessil said. She had everything in her pack. Just a few apples to store in it tomorrow and she would be off with the company of Thorin Oakenshield.

* * *

**Okay, so we're off to a slow start, but they'll be on the road next chapter. Just bear with me. Reviews will be loved!**


	3. Into the Wild

**I've been spending so much time on my LOTR fic that I feel so unfaithful to this one. But I have one more chapter written! And I will keep at it!**

* * *

**~~**III**~~**

**Into the Wild**

Initially, Lessil wasn't overly comfortable about riding a pony. She hadn't done any riding in years, since everywhere she need to go was within walking distance. But she sat dutifully upon her pony - whose name was Myrtle - and rode next to Gandalf. Myrtle was actually quite well behaved and apparently whenever she whipped her head up and down that meant Lessil was too nervous, according to Gandalf at least.

She was a good guess about the new length of her dresses, it didn't hassle her one bit as she mounted the pony and was light enough not to chaff as well as thick enough to keep her warm. But that wasn't all, she also thought ahead to bring two cloaks. It may be clear today, but Lessil wouldn't be surprised if the rain caught them within a few weeks. It was still very much spring, and they were going to continue traveling in it. She didn't need to ask about that. She didn't complain either, for she knew that it would fall on deaf ears. But...two cloaks.

As promised, everything she may need for herself was given to her. Bombur was in charge of cooking and made stew enough to fill all of them and even plenty of leftovers for himself. Lessil was perfectly able to set traps for meat, but Kili was the one who did the hunting when needed. Lessil was able to rest her limbs after riding, to which she was grateful. Even when they were only going at a slow pace, her inner thighs still went stiff every time. But luckily she was a quick mend.

And when they neared a stream, Lessil managed to allow herself some time to bathe. It wasn't overly easy though. Half of them insisted that if they didn't need to bathe, then she didn't. But a couple of them were on her side, Kili and Gandalf included. So she went a small ways away and bathed in the large stream so long as she was out and ready to leave within half an hour. And just to surprise them, she was done and ready in twenty minutes.

Just as Lessil predicted, in the second week of their journey, they were caught in a torrent. Lessil found that they were quite lucky to get rain so late after their start. And while it was pouring now, it had only been like this since the afternoon. The two days before were only the slightest drizzle in between some overcast. And Lessil was very glad for her two cloaks as well. The first one was a deep purple that was rather soft and kept quite warm. The other was a midnight blue that had the falling water slip right off and keep her relatively dry.

The rain stopped five days after it started and they were finally able to start a fire and dry their clothing. Thanks to her cloaks, Lessil's pack remained quite dry and fresh new clothes even put her in a better mood. Though to her, it didn't seem that the dwarves were so lucky. Their nicely groomed beards were sodden and their hair matted. But any groaning was left to themselves as they quickly put on drier clothes and sat near the fire. There were two for all of them to be able to huddle around.

It didn't take long for most the dwarves to fall asleep after supper and Lessil wasn't quite able to do so easily on the cold, hard ground. It always seemed that no matter where she slept, there was a root or rock or something of that sort digging into her back. So instead she lay on her belly near Bombur and watched as moths hovered above his mouth and were sucked in as he took in a snoring breath. They even whooshed out as he exhaled. It was quite amusing to watch. And how did the moths not think to fly away after being sucked into a dwarf's mouth? It was so weird.

But still she was uncomfortable and tired and unable to sleep.

A strangled cry came from a distance. It stretched long but not loud enough to wake any of the sleeping dwarves. Though Lessil doubted it would have woken her either had she been asleep. She rose to her knees. "What was that?" She asked.

Fili and Kili were on watch, though Balin and Gandalf were still awake as well. Kili looked out into the dark night, worry etched on his brow. "Orcs," he whispered.

"Orcs!" Lessil stammered, momentarily forgetting to keep her voice down among sleeping dwarves. She snapped her mouth shut and went closer to the fire where the young brothers sat.

"Throat-cutters," Fili added. "There'll be dozens of them out there."

"They attack in the small hours of the night when everyone's asleep," Kili continued. "Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood."

Lessil looked uneasily out into the night, more glad that she wasn't alone. She wasn't a fighter and nor was she used to the wild. And Wisty actually _enjoyed_ this? She must have seemed near terrified because Kili came next to her and took her hand.

"Don't worry, I promised I'd protect you," he told her.

That made her feel loads better...until she heard a snicker coming from behind her. Slowly, she turned to see Fili snorting into his pipe. And as Lessil turned to Kili, he also had the faintest grin. That _was not _funny. She yanked her hand from the young dwarf's grip and thwacked the back of his head. He still grinned at her, though a bit more sheepishly. He'd better not try that again.

"You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

Little did she know, but when Lessil had nearly shouted orcs, Thorin was startled awake. And he heard the little fairy was startled at the possibility of orcs. Of course she would be. But his nephews shouldn't have played her on like that. It wasn't just to keep from scaring her, but they knew nothing of the terror and blood and screams that came with orcs, especially an army.

Fili and Kili shied from their uncle's hard gaze, looking thoroughly chastised. Lessil made no comment, no nothing toward the two. Thorin looked like he was in a mood. Quite a bad one too.

"Don't worry about him," Balin said, stepping over to their fire. "Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs."

Lessil had never seen one herself, but she heard the stories. And never in her life did she want to see them. Though there was always a chance she would see one - most likely far too many - and she tried not to balk at the idea. Even if Kili was trying to keep up the bravado for her, she was wary. But with the weapons these dwarves carried, they were ready for an attack. Bombur could even plow them over without need of a weapon.

They watched as Thorin strode away from the camp near where the ponies stood. His hands were clenched behind his back an his shoulders seemed to hold a lot of tension in Lessil's eyes.

"After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria," Balin told them. "But our enemy had gotten there first. Legion of orcs swarmed the halls, led by the most vile of their race: Azog, the Defiler. He is an orc of Gundabad and a foul one at that. As pale as death and taller than a grown man, with scars littering most of his body. He beheaded the king."

Lessil felt her mouth drop. Had Thorin witnessed that? His own grandfather's death? She looked over to him, but it appeared he wasn't listening. How long ago had this been? If it was soon after the dragon took their home, then he must have been young, maybe the same age as Fili.

"That was a tragic blow for us. Thror's son, Thrain, went mad. He was lost in battle, whether killed or taken is still unknown to us," Balin continued. "We lost our king, his son and even young prince Frerin, Thorin's younger brother. We were leaderless and death was upon us all. "

Lessil felt a surge of pity and sympathy for Thorin. He'd seemed so prickly to her and yet after going through so much grief, she could hardly blame him. Losing half of his family so quickly. His grandfather, father, and brother in one battle even. Who was left? She glanced at Fili and Kili. At least he still had some family. Now she understood just a little of why he was so determined to reclaim his homeland. His family wasn't coming back, but his home could be restored to him. All that he lost might not seem in vain if he could accomplish such in his lifetime.

But it seemed that there was some hope in this story as a light shone in Balin's eyes. "That's when I saw him," he said with a smile as he glanced toward Thorin. "A young dwarf prince facing down the pale orc. He stood alone against this terrible foe. His armor rent, wielding naught but an oaken branch as a shield. Azog the Defiler learned that day; the line of Durin would not be so easily broken.

"With Thorin leading us, our forces rallied and drove the orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated. But there was no feast or song to be heard that night. For our dead were beyond the count of grief. I thought to myself then, as I looked upon the lone dwarf prince who led us to our victory, "There is one, whom I could follow. There is one, whom I could call king.""

Balin finished his sad tale, but despite this, he smiled. He'd gone through so much pain and yet he still had the strength to smile. That in itself was a gift.

Lessil turned toward Thorin to find that he'd walked back to the camp and stood but a yard from where she sat. His eyes held so much sadness yet there was also an unbreakable resilience in them. This was a dwarf who knew how to endure. A dwarf who went from having everything to having it all robbed from him. One who knew hardship and pain beyond measure. Not only that, but he was a dwarf who inspired those around him to follow him. It didn't matter that there were so few of them in the company and that they faced a challenge that very much may kill them all. Loyalty, honor and a willing heart. That's what he said back at her home. Despite the pain, there was still a beating heart to be found in him.

And for the first time, Lessil truly felt like she was meant to go on this journey.

* * *

The sun was shining and growing warmer as they traveled the next few days. Summer was finally upon them. Lessil tipped her head back and basked slightly in the warmth of the sun.

But things could not be said for the warmth of the dwarves. Each of them seemed to have their own sets of uneasiness. Gloin, Dori and Bifur - at least Lessil guessed, she couldn't understand a word he said - were wary of the fairyfolk due to their manipulative tendencies. It was an unfortunate truth of Lessil's heritage, though none of her mother's kin were so dishonorable. Nori, Dwalin, and Oin thought it disagreeable to have a defenseless woman among them. Fairy she may be, but Lessil was of Men as well. At first, it had seemed that Oin was quite taken with her healer's knowledge, but that was only momentarily.

A few of them were nice to her at least. Fili and Kili were always friendly and even taught her how to hold her knife in a more correct position. If she were ever to be alone and in need to defend herself, they told her to cut for the legs. If an enemy had a wounded leg, they couldn't run. So she would make a cut and run away fast.

Ori was a sweetheart too, especially once he got over his shyness. He sometimes rode next to Lessil. He did so today and the two of them made light conversation.

"How did you get such a pretty name?" Ori asked.

The two of them had been talking about names and how Lessil thought it interesting on how the brothers mostly had such similar names. Ori then went on telling names of family trees and that most of the company were of the high family of Durin, the greatest of dwarf kings.

"Well," Lessil began, "I was born on the last day of autumn, and yet the day was snowing. It's not common in my home for the first snow of the season to arrive before the first week of winter. There's frost of course, but no falling snow. So my parents named me Lessil, which means snow."

Kili, listening to their conversation, rode up to the other side of Lessil. "So your name is snow?" Lessil nodded. "Then you shall be called Snowy."

Lessil laughed at that. From then on, half the dwarves began referring to her as Snowy or Snow.

~~*.*~~

That evening, they stopped at the remnants of a farm house. They just passed where the barn and chicken coop were almost completely torn down. There was even an old wagon sitting around, though nothing but the wheels were left. It may have been abandoned about twenty or thirty years ago.

Thorin stopped just before the farmer's house, which some of the stone still stood. Lessil could still see the the remnants of the hearth.

Their leader turned his pony and announced to them all. "We'll camp here for the night. Fili, Kili, look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them."

Gandalf was a bit ahead inside the ruins of the farm house. "I think it would be wiser to move on," he called out to the dwarves.

Lessil had just dismounted from her pony, but paused at Gandalf's words. Were they going to move on? She looked around but the other dwarves paid him no mind. Thorin didn't say anything either. It seems like they weren't moving after all, so Lessil unsaddled Myrtle - she could finally do it herself now - and set her pack down.

Thorin and Gandalf had been speaking in hushed tones a little ways away, but Lessil didn't hear them. Not until Gandalf stormed away, he was fuming.

"Is everything alright, Gandalf?" Lessil asked, but he went right past her without acknowledging her words. "Where are you going?"

"To seek the company of the only one around here who makes any sense!" the wizard snapped.

"Who's that?" Lessil asked. And what was that supposed to mean?

"Myself!" Gandalf barked, "I've had enough of dwarves for one day!" he finished, hopping onto his horse and riding off.

Lessil watched him leave. He wasn't going to leave her here, was he? He was part of the company, he couldn't leave. "Is he coming back?" she asked Balin who stood next to her. The white-haired dwarf shrugged and shook his head. "But he can't leave!" she exclaimed.

"Give the wizard some time to cool off, Snow." Balin was one of the few who also began calling her by the new nickname.

And it seemed he need hours to do it. Lessil looked out into the night, searching for the figure of the returning wizard. But she didn't see a trace of him. What did Thorin say to make him so upset? Gandalf had wanted to move on a bit further. Lessil racked her head for just where they were. They were on the East Road and just crossed the Hoarwell River this morning. Oh, they were on the boarders of the Trollshaws.

Wait...the _Trollshaws._ Lessil knew of them to be infested by evil trolls who ventured south after the fall of the northern kingdom. From what Lessil heard from town, few trolls had been seen in the area for the past five hundred years. But there could always be some hiding. And by the state of this farm...no wonder Gandalf wanted to move on.

And...and Rivendell was near here. Lessil had never been to the home of the Elven Lord Elrond, but her kin had known plenty about him, including her mother. Oh, perhaps they could go to Rivendell and be able to stay somewhere with an actual bed. They wouldn't have to worry about cooking. And Lessil could get a proper bath and get her clothes clean. They were starting to smell.

Lessil moved over toward Thorin who sat near the hearth of the broken down cottage. It was a small living space from what Lessil could see as she compared it to her home. Thorin turned to her as he heard her coming.

"Where are we headed from here?" she decided to ask that first.

"The Lonely Mountain of course," he deadpanned.

Lessil bit her tongue. Did he have to be so rude? She was being polite to him. "Yes, of course," she said evenly. "I meant to say is there anywhere we're headed in between here and there? Like a settlement? Like...Rivendell?"

Thorin's eyes hardened. "So Gandalf cannot sway my mind, are you going to try as well?" he spat.

_So that's why Gandalf left. _Lessil thought. _I think I would too._ "Why would you not want to take refuge there? We could restock on supplies and rest a while."

"I do not trust elves," Thorin hissed.

Lessil crossed her arms. "Why not?"

"They betrayed my people. Turned their backs on us when we were homeless and the dragon ravaged our land," Thorin continued, his voice growing darker. "They were supposed to be our allies, and yet at the first chance of danger, they ran away."

Lessil kept her arms crossed, listening to his words. It seemed harsh indeed, but... "You really think that they would have risked the wrath of a dragon for you?" That was harsh as well, but true enough. She still found herself a bit crazy in thinking she could slip under the nose of a dragon. But so far on this quest, she'd been able to ignore it. It was a long way until they reached the Lonely Mountain. "Your kingdom had fallen, perhaps they didn't want to lose theirs as well."

Thorin shook his head. "Perhaps they are glad that the mightiest and richest kingdom fell," he said sourly.

"That seems a bit too malicious for elves," Lessil commented.

"The elves have more in common with the fairies than you believe," Thorin grumbled.

It was Lessil's turn to shake her head. Yes, fairies could have a tendency for mischief and maliciousness, but that came more from the lone fairies. Those still residing within the fairy kingdoms did not act as such. "And do you not like the fairies for not getting their hands in it as well?" She knew there was another fairy realm to the east somewhere near the Iron Hills. But fairies didn't fight anymore.

Thorin merely stared at her. "The dwarf kings always knew that there would be no assistance from the fairies when it came to battle of any kind," he told her. "I know enough of fairy history to understand why they are against violence of any kind."

Lessil knew it too. In the Second Age, many of the fairies turned against each other. It had been the Fairy Queen Ezra who turned against the other Fairy Kings and Queen. A huge kinslaying of the fairies had erupted for over a hundred years. It was long and bloody and full of betrayal. It was the evil history that all fairies knew, young and old. And the damage would never fade away. Before there had been five fairy realms. Now there were only two. When the bloodshed was finally over, survivors from the third realm that had not turned against their kin, settled in the remaining realms. Lessil's ancestors didn't have that kind of trauma, but there were some who did. It stayed with them all and the legacy held for so long that even the eldest of fairies had never lifted a sword once.

So now the fairies kept to themselves, hidden within their lands and protected by their warding magic. Most enemies wouldn't be able to enter the realms, let alone ravage them. Fairies took to protecting their own very seriously. Though every once in a while, fairies would explore the world outside their home. That's how Lessil's parents had met.

"But you can't believe that all elves will be like that," Lessil pressed on. "Rivendell is always open to whoever comes in peace."

"We are not going to Rivendell!" Thorin snapped. "So you can stop trying to convince me."

Lessil let out a huff and left. Yes, she might have left in the same manner as Gandalf. But she signed a contract. She had to give the dwarves her assistance. And again, the wizard was still not back. She came near Bofur, who was still ladling stew in a bowl. Lessil had finished her bowl half an hour ago. And of course Bombur came over looking for seconds. Actually thirds.

"He's been gone a long time," Lessil murmured as she neared Bofur.

"Who?" Bofur didn't know to whom she was referring.

"Gandalf," she clarified.

"He's a wizard," Bofur told her. "He comes and goes as he chooses." He handed her two bowls of stew. He held them out to her. "Do me a favor and take this to the lads."

Of course he meant Fili and Kili who were watching over the ponies. Lessil gingerly carried the bowls. They weren't too hot to burn her fingers at least. She walked down past the fallen stones and high grass. Some of the ponies could already be seen milling around in the fields. They were still in eyeshot of the camp at least.

Fili and Kili both stood quite still as they watched the ponies. In fact, they seemed like statues. Lessil stepped between them and held out a bowl for each. "Dinner." she told them. But neither of them moved to take the bowls from her hand. She looked to both brothers. Their faces were tense...and anxious. "What is it?"

"We're supposed to be looking after the ponies," Kili said.

"Yeah, you are," Lessil agreed dryly. "But that doesn't mean you can't eat while doing it."

"But we've run into a slight problem," Fili added.

_Problem? What kind of problem? _"And that is?" Lessil asked.

"We had sixteen," Kili answered. _Had?_

"Now there's fourteen," Fili finished.

"You lost two ponies?" Lessil said, looking from dwarf to dwarf again. "You're supposed to be watching them. Did they wander off? And if they did, why aren't you searching for them?"

"We very well can't wander off and look for them in case another wanders off while we're not looking," Fili said.

"What, were both of you taking a tinkle in the woods when this happened?" Lessil asked.

"Didn't think you'd say it quite like that," Kili replied with a grin.

That shut her right up. But not for long. "So, what are we going to do?"

"Well, it's Daisy and Bongo that are missing," Kili said as the two of them finally moved from their spot and wove through the ponies. And while they searched, they found an uprooted tree. And it didn't happen naturally.

"That doesn't look good at all." Lessil pointed toward the ripped roots. "Do you think we should tell Thorin?"

"Nah," Fili said, "let's not worry him."

"Not worry him?" Lessil repeated. "Two of our ponies are missing. Under your watch." But then it dawned on her. Of course. These two actually started to remind her of she and her sister. Especially in a situation like this. "Oh, I see what this is. You two don't want to get in trouble."

"No," Kili said quickly. "They must have just wandered off. We can find them and he'll never have to know."

Lessil quirked a brow. "You really think it's that simple?" The dwarf nodded. She shook her head. "Believe me when I say that situations like this are not good at staying hidden." And she knew that well. Once when her mother was away, Lessil and Wisty had broken one of her vases from home. They tried to hide it and simply replaced it with another one. It didn't work for long. Mora had asked where it was and Lessil and Wisty were forced to show her the broken pieces under Wisty's bed. And yes, they were in trouble.

"Yes it can," Fili insisted. "You're our burglar. You can figure it out."

"I thought my job didn't start until we were east of the Misty Mountains," Lessil argued.

"We'll pay you extra," Kili added.

"You really think you can win me over with gold?" Lessil remarked, shaking her head.

"Please, Snowy," Kili pleaded. "Just help us look around."

She shook her head again, but agreed. "Well, maybe it had something to do with the trees," she said. "This didn't just happen. Something must have uprooted them. Whatever did that could have taken the ponies."

"We thought the same," Fili said.

"So that's why you haven't been looking yet," Lessil said. "Well, what could have taken the ponies?" But she'd answered that question herself once earlier. What could be around the _Troll_shaws? Trolls. Please no.

"Look, there's a light," Fili whispered, looking over a fallen tree. Lessil looked over his head and saw it too. Someone had a fire. The three of them hovered over the log and looked toward the orange light. Lessil placed to bowls down on the fallen tree. She was getting tired of still carrying them.

A loud guffawing sneeze sounded from the distance. It sounded big too.

"Please let it not be so," Lessil whimpered.

"Trolls," Kili sneered and he and his brother both hopped over the tree for a better look.

"Wait!" Lessil whispered after them, but they didn't hear her. She jumped over after them. She stopped and looked back to the bowls of stew. She was about to pick them up, but thought better of it. _They aren't going to be eating anyway. _She waved her hands at them and took off after the boys.

She followed them as they huddled near more tree roots and dove behind a tree just as she saw a _troll_ pass by. He was carrying two of their ponies. And not just any two. "He's got Myrtle and Minty!" she hissed. Not only her pony, but Thorin's as well. Just great. And then there was Daisy and Bongo as well. Now they were missing four ponies. Now was really the time to tell Thorin.

"We have to do something," Lessil told them.

They both looked at her. "Yes," Kili said, "you should. Mountain trolls are slow and stupid. You can pass right by them unseen. They'll never know you're there."

_Wait, what? _"I meant go tell Thorin!" she snapped at them, making sure to keep her voice down this time.

"You'll be perfectly fine," Fili said. "Just go. We'll stay and watch."

"No. Either you tell Thorin or I will." She _was not_ about to sneak around some trolls.

"If you run into trouble, just shout 'by my beard'," Fili told her, pushing her forward.

"I don't have a beard!" She snapped.

"Go!" They both snapped at her.

She stopped that time. "Okay, but you're going to pay me extra for this," she said, pointing at them dangerously. "And it's not going to be in gold." With that, she turned around, squared her shoulders and went off to dine with trolls.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed. Reviews will be loved.**


	4. Dinner With Trolls

**Urgh, I've been slacking. I looked on Wednesday when I should have updated and saw that I was just a quarter done with this chapter. But it's done now! Yes!**

**And I do realize that my spelling and grammar aren't the best. If you see any mistakes in the chapters, feel free to let me know via PM and I'll fix it as soon as possible.**

* * *

**~~**IV**~~**

**Dinner With Trolls**

Lessil still couldn't believe she was actually doing this. The better idea would have been to run for the others and form a plan. How was she supposed to reclaim four ponies under the nose of some trolls? It wasn't like her mission once she got to the Lonely Mountain. Ponies weren't a jewel that could be picked up and placed within her pocket.

Well, there was no turning back now.

She hid behind a nearby tree and watched the _three_ trolls as they were preparing their dinner. "Mutton yesterday, mutton today, and blimey if it doesn't look like mutton again tomorrow," one of them said.

"Quite your griping," another one scolded as he held a pony in each arm. "These ain't sheep. These is west nads."

The third one snarled. "I don't like horse," he said in his nasally voice. "I never 'ave. Not enough fat on them."

"Bet'er than the livery old farmer," the second one commented. "I'm still picking bones of him out of my teeth." Oh, so that's what happened to the farmer then. Good to know. "All skin an' bone he was."

The three trolls were huddled around a boiling pot, in which Lessil could actually see the faintest bit of green steaming from the top. Gross. She could get in a whiff from where she stood and nearly gagged and almost did when the middle troll actually sneezed in it.

The other trolls didn't feel the same. "That's lovely, that is. A floater." _Gross. That's even worse than Dwalin eating a fish head!_

"That migh' improve the flavor," the first troll commented.

"There's more where that came from," the middle troll said as he gather more snot in his nose. He wasn't really going to sneeze in it again, was he? Disgusting.

At least the other troll wasn't so inclined to allow him as he grabbed the middle one's nose, "Oh no you don't," he snapped and threw the middle troll back into his seat. The middle one then grabbed a handkerchief and blew his nose into that.

Well, before Lessil became sick from watching these disgusting trolls, she closed here eyes and called upon her gift. _I am a shadow. I walk unseen. I have no scent. I make no noise._ Then she stepped out away from the tree and moved toward the pen made for the ponies. It didn't do her much good. It was crudely made but the rope binding it together was thick and wound tightly. She didn't think to keep her knife on her. She was only supposed to be giving dinner to the boys who were still in eyeshot of the camp. Next time her dagger was not going to stray from her belt. Granted there would be a next time.

The middle one turned toward the pony pen and leered at the four captives who stood still in fright. Lessil would have too if she knew she was to be eaten by three trolls. She stopped pulling at the ropes, but didn't move as she knew the troll couldn't see her.

"I hope your gonna gut these nads," he said, "but then I like the stinky parts." His hand went to graze at Minty.

"I said sit down!" snapped the troll closest to Lessil as he thwacked the middle on with his spoon. Lessil went quickly back to the ropes. _Too tight!_

"I'm starving!" the first one cried, "Are we 'aving horse tonight or what?"

"Shut your cake-hole," the third one snapped. "You'll eat what we'll give ya."

Lessil stopped her useless battle with the ropes. They weren't going to budge. Perhaps they could just count their losses and move on? They still had ten ponies. A few of them could share or take turns walking. This was useless.

She gazed up at the trolls who still sat around their pot, apparently satisfied for their dinner of the evening. Yeah, they'd have four ponies. Lessil honestly thought they couldn't be so stupid to not notice them being swiped right from under their noses.

"Did you remember the squirrel dung?" _What? Eeeewww! That's worse than the snot!_

"Was I 'spose to do that?" asked the nasally one.

"When did we 'ave squirrel dung?" the third one asked.

"It was righ' beside you, Bill!" the first one snapped.

"I don' 'member seeing it," Bill exclaimed.

"Seeing wha'?"

On second thought, perhaps they were stupid enough for just about anything to crawl under their noses. But how was Lessil going to cut this rope lose? It would take too much time to return to camp and get her knife. But then she noticed the big knife at the troll's hip. _Perfect._

And it seemed the trolls were done with their argument...and beginning another one. "Why is he always the cook?" Bill whined, "Everything tastes the same, everything tastes like chicken."

"Except the chicken," the nasally one commented.

But the cooking troll was inclined to ignore those comments as he continued to stir the pot. He only paused to snap at the nasally troll who grabbed at his drink. "'At's my grog!" He swatted the troll again with his spoon and Lessil was beginning to wonder just how many times he'd do that and how many times the other troll would allow it.

She was careful in approaching the troll as he lifted himself back up on his seat. Lessil looked at the crudely made troll-blade and wondered just how she was going to do this. It was too long for her to pull it upwards and it may rake against the ground if she pulled it down. But down would be easier.

Suddenly, the troll moved to his feet. Lessil jumped back in case he tried to grab at the handkerchief at his belt. But he wasn't grabbing for anything.

He was letting something go.

As a healer, Lessil had smelled some pungent scents. But combine them all together, make it threefold and it still wouldn't match the stink coming from the troll's back side.

So much for her dinner. Lessil turned around and all the contents of her stomach left her and some extra. Even as she was finished, her gut was still heaving and her nostrils refused to work anymore. She needed air. She needed fresh, un-troll-stained air.

But she didn't get the chance. "What's this?"

Startled, Lessil turned around to see three trolls staring right at her. Oh no, while she was vomiting she lost control of the unseeing magic. Now the dumb trolls could see her.

"Looks like we get dessert too!" the nasally one cried as he grabbed for her. On wobbly limbs, Lessil didn't get the chance to slip away and she was grabbed by the ankles and hauled upside-down. "A pretty little thing."

Lessil dangled from the troll's grip, her dress falling down past her legs and near to her face. She had to push it up to keep it off her face. Luckily she wore thick leggings underneath.

The troll began sniffing at her. "Oh, it's a _fairy,_" he exclaimed. Another sniff...right at the top of her legs. "A virgin too. Even better."

If she had her wits about her, Lessil may have spoke back. But she was at their mercy, held near their fire too.

"Are there any other fairies around 'ere?" one asked.

Lessil shook her head. "No," she answered.

"She's lying," the other one jeered, "fairies don't travel alone."

"No, I'm not lying," Lessil told them. Well, that would depend on what they were referring. It was true that she was the only fairy around here, but it was wrong to say that she was traveling alone. Oh, they wouldn't need to know the difference anyway.

"You still make for a good snack," the nasally one said, lifting her higher...as if too eat her. Weren't they going to share? At least, decide to?

"By my beard," she whimpered.

Miraculously, someone managed to hear that as they raced through the trees and swung at one of the trolls. It wasn't enough to maim him, but by his howls it must have hurt a lot.

"Drop her!"

The trolls stared at their other guest. Lessil was able to maneuver around to see that it was Kili. Then where was Fili? Hopefully gone to tell the others. Please.

"You what?" one of the trolls exclaimed in response.

Kili twirled his sword and firmed his grip on it. "I said, drop her!"

And the troll actually did it. Well, he didn't drop her, but flung her right into Kili's arms. They landed in a heap just as the rest of the company sprung from the trees.

Lessil wasn't accustomed to being in a fight and it was all she could do to simply stay out of the way. Kili rolled her off him and she huddled against the tree stump and watched the dwarves engage the trolls. For being so short they combated the tall trolls quite nicely. Unfortunately troll hide was quite thick and their axes and swords were only as good as a good punch and a blunt knife. It was good enough to make them flinch and drop grabbed dwarves. Dwalin even knocked out a few teeth from one of them.

From the make-shift pen, Lessil could see the ponies aggravated and wanting out. She couldn't ust sit here, she needed to do something. Fili crossed by in front of her. She called out to him, "Fili, I need a knife!"

He heard her without looking and pulled one of the many knives from his coat and tossed it to her. Lessil let out a shriek as went right past her ear and wedged into the tree trunk. That was not considerate. But moving on, she yanked it from the tree and moved toward the pen. Not easy when she had to pass by fighting dwarves as well as making sure not to be stomped on by trolls. She finally made it to the edge she stood near before and began sawing at the ropes. The horses hurried off as soon as the pen was opened and Lessil watched them all go safely. But she wasn't safe for long.

Something grabbed her by the arm and yanked her up. It hardly mattered that the knife was still in it. Another quickly grabbed at her other arm and her leg for good measure. Soon she was held at her appendages between two trolls and faced toward the dwarves.

"Lay down your arms, or we'll rip hers off!" snapped the one who grabbed her. And he wasn't joking. Already her limbs felt strained.

For several moments, the dwarves stared up at her. Thorin's eyes hardened and Lessil worried that he might just let them. Well, it was hardly her fault that they were in this mess in the first place. It wasn't her fault.

But Thorin begrudgingly stabbed his sword at the ground and the others followed suit. The trolls then gathered half of them up and stripped them to their undergarments - Lessil had to avert her eyes - and tied them to a spit over the fire. The rest of them thankfully got to keep their clothes on, but then were stuffed in thick sacks.

"Don't bother cookin' 'em," the nasally troll said, roving his eyes over the dwarves. He looked hungry. "Let's just sit on them and squash 'em into jelly."

"No, they should be sautéed and grilled with a sprinkle of sage," said the one rotating the spit. He picked at Nori's clothing as if to check his temperature.

"Just cook 'em!" the third one snapped. "Dawn ain't far away. I don't fancy being turned to stone."

Wait. Dawn? Stone? Of course, trolls turn to stone in the sun! How far away was the daylight? It must have been about nine o'clock when they had supper - a bit too late in Lessil's opinion, but Bombur wanted to get the meal just right. He ran out of some of the seasoning and went out to see if he could find it in the wild. They were at an old farm. And then Lessil went to give supper to Fili and Kili where they saw the trolls. So from then to the fight...might have been just short of an hour. And it took the trolls about an hour to get the dwarves on the spit, who'd been spinning for about another hour. This was all just pure estimate on Lessil's part and perhaps she was thinking too hard. But before her mind ran off with her, she had something to do.

She needed to stall.

"Wait!" she cried, hobbling to her feet. It was surprisingly difficult to do wrapped in a sack. She couldn't use her arms to balance herself since the trolls also tied their hands in front of their backs. Better than behind at least. Not only that, but the bottom didn't leave much room to really move her legs. She had to hop. Not too easy, but she managed. "You are making a terrible mistake."

The trolls looked at her but it was Dori who spoke. "You can't reason with them, they're half-wits!"

"Half-wits?" Bofur shot back. "What does that make us?" Good point.

"I meant with the, uh, seasoning," Lessil answered as she hopped over to face the trolls. It was a miracle she didn't fall on her face.

One of the trolls knelt down to face her. "What about the seasoning?" Boy, was his breath foul.

But Lessil did her best not to wrinkle her nose. She didn't need to anger then anymore. They might just start to eat them one by one. "Well, have you smelt them?" she asked, and she did not have to pretend to look convincing. They did smell. _We don't need baths,_ they say, oh yes they did. "You're gonna something stronger than sage to plate this lot up."

The dwarves at her feet began to protest, but she didn't listen to them. It was hardly as if she wanted any of them eaten and if they thought she was egging the trolls on, then it would seem more convincing.

"What do you know about cooking dwarf?" asked the one turning the spit. He even rolled his eyes.

She smiled at it, at least she didn't have to pretend to be nice. The troll probably wouldn't know if she was mocking him. "Well, I do know how to cook good food and he's right," she said, nodding to the troll in front of her, "good seasoning is the heart of cooking."

"What did I say, Bert?" the troll turned to the other with a triumphant grin on his face. "That's why I should do the cooking. This fairy virgin knows well." So she was going to be called a fairy virgin. There were worse names. "What do you 'ave to say abou' cooking dwarf?"

Cooking dwarf? She never thought about it, having never wanted to eat dwarf in the first place. Perhaps she could talk about seasoning. "Well, we fairies have this wonderful plant called Mistlight," she began, and it was a wonder that she was lying so well under pressure, "it has the most _lovely_ taste. We never prepare a meal without it. Though, it is said that one taste can drive a man mad," what was she talking about? "but you aren't men, of course."

"Wha' does Misty taste like?" the troll asked, already forgetting the name. Yes, troll are stupid.

Lessil thought of her favorite food and let out a sigh she hoped was convincing. "I know what it tastes like to me, but apparently my sister says it tastes like something different. You see, it comes accustomed to _your own_ tastes." Wow, these lies were rolling right off her tongue. It was so much like the times she and Wisty had to explain to their father as to why they were home so late in the night. He'd never believed them, but he liked humoring them from time to time. Hopefully the trolls weren't quick..._of course they're not._

"Do you 'ave some with you?" the troll asked, reaching his hand out to Lessil as if to pull at her sack's strings.

Lessil grimaced, partly over the fact her idea was already shot and for effect. "Not _on me_. It's in my bag and I'm afraid you don't have them time to fetch it. I guess you can save the rest of us for tomorrow?"

More shouts came from the dwarves, but Lessil was beyond listening. She saw light from behind the foliage. And was it her, or did she just see them rustle? Someone was behind there. Oh, please let it be Gandalf.

"An' we still 'ave you for dessert," the troll added with a smile.

Lessil kept her face from falling in horror. _Keep smiling. Keep smiling._ "Of course."

"What do you say for t'night?" the troll continued.

"Tonight," Lessil mumbled, wracking her thoughts for some little thing they could do to stall that wouldn't end up with a dead, ate dwarf. "Tonight...well, you could start with a shave." This time she heard the dwarves shouting and didn't care to look. _Traitor! How dare you! I won't forget that! _Didn't they get that she was trying to save their skins? "I believe I overheard you speaking of how the old farmer's bones were still caught in your teeth. Do you really want to pick coarse dwarf hair out of them too?"

"It took me thirty years to grow this beard!" Bombur cried. Lessil fought to roll her eyes. _And in another thirty years, it will be back. Get over it. _

But the nasally troll actually answered him. "Well, I'm hungry now. I don' care about the seasonin' or bits of hair." He pulled Bombur right over his head and dangled him over his mouth. His tongue even lolled in anticipation of supper. Lessil heard Bombur sob.

_Oh no._ "No, not that one!" Lessil cried. "He's infected!" What? Wait, perfect!

The troll gasped and pulled Bombur away from his mouth. Good, they believed her. "What?" he choked.

"He's got worms," _Worms? Whatever, they won't know, _"in his...tubes." Okay, now this was just getting stupid. They'd better pay her extra for this.

The troll seemed to believe her as he let go of Bombur as if he could catch the infection too. _Thank goodness. We might just pull out of this._ "In fact, they all have it," Lessil continued, hoping that the trolls would just let them all go, "they're infested with parasites. It's a terrible business. I'm actually their healer leading them toward Nengalad to the south." She'd been doing good so far, why stop now?

"Parasites?" Oin barked. "What are you talking about?"

"We don't have parasites!" Kili hollered.

Lessil gnashed her teeth. She could see the light, dawn was minutes away from reach them. They just needed to hold out for a _little while longer!_ Work with her, please. She turned to the dwarves, giving the best pleading look without giving herself away.

It was Thorin who caught onto her idea and kicked at Kili, who snapped his head up to look at him. The others stopped their complaining as well.

"I've got parasites as big as my arm," Oin said. Lessil tried not to fall over in relief.

Kili was next. "Mine are the biggest parasites. I've got huge parasites!"

The ones on the spit were next. "We riddled. Yes we are."

"What would you 'ave us do then," the other troll - wasn't he called Bert? - said, coming toward her, "let 'em all go?"

Lessil gave him a sheepish grimace. "Well..."

Bert jabbed her in the gut and it was quite a blow. Luckily she'd already emptied the contents of her stomach a while ago. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing. This virgin fairy is taking us for fools."

Lessil shook her head. If she had to hear virgin one more time...

It was then that Gandalf made his appearance and never was Lessil more glad to see him. "The dawn will take you all!" the wizard cried. He stood upon a boulder at the end of the clearing. Light could be seen peaking out from behind it.

"Who's that?"

"No idea."

"Can we eat him too?"

But they didn't get to decide as Gandalf slammed his staff into the boulder which cut it cleanly in two. The light of the sun stabbed at the trolls as they contorted in pain and even seemed to smoke slightly. Their limbs stiffened and changed to a more stone grey color and they did their best to huddle down but it did no good as there was no hiding from the sun's rays. They became motionless over the campfire as three new stone statues...never to eat farmers or dwarves again. _Thank goodness._

Lessil stared at the light of dawn, letting it warm her face. She was never so grateful to the daylight as she was now. Live to fight another day just took on a greater meaning.

The dwarves were also celebrating the daylight. They began laughing at their fortune and even Thorin cracked a smile.

Gandalf came right up to Lessil and worked at untying her sack. "Well done, my dear," he chuckled. Whether he was joking or being serious, she didn't care in the slightest. She merely shoved the horrid smelling sack down and stepped out of it. She didn't want to think just how they were going to get the others down.

"So, Snowy," Kili stated and she turned to look down at him, "what kind of payment did you want for this?"

She smiled demurely at his grin, yet all her thoughts were going to be how she was going to wipe it away. "You want to know just what I have in mind?" she asked sweetly. He just smiled in return. She grabbed at his sack and hauled him to his feet. "Since you're so kind to offer," she held his shoulders and looked down at him, still sweetly and Kili didn't know better. He even took their close proximity to lean his head in. Oh, he wanted a kiss?

Well, too bad!

Instead, she shoved him down back onto the pile of dwarves. Luckily none of them had yet to be untied. Without his hands to balance him, Kili fell right back with a howl and Lessil didn't even pause as she began picking rocks from the ground and pelting him with them.

"I'll make you black and blue for this!" Lessil screamed. She didn't honestly think of hurting them when she made that threat. She had other, more harmless things in mind; tickling his nose as he slept, waking him up with a splash of water in his face, things like that. But right now, she was just getting over being scared out of her wits. She was grabbed by trolls, almost _eaten_, and stalled in order for all of them to greet the day alive. Her nerves were frayed. She didn't even care that some of her rocks were hitting the others as well.

She must have thrown over fifteen rocks when she paused due to not finding anymore quickly. Her breath was heaving and she had groaning dwarves at her feet. Some of the others were telling her to stop, or even just laughing at her - she definitely knew Bofur's laugh. Gandalf just stood a bit away from her and let her fume. When she finally allowed herself to calm, she realized just how filthy it smelled here. If she had anything in her stomach, it would be gone. She just remembered what the troll smelled like from behind. She needed to bathe...for a long time. And these clothes were being burned.

The dwarves better get in a good bath too.

But before she walked away, Bombur asked a simple question. "Does Mistlight really taste as amazing as you say? And if so, why didn't you offer it to us at your home?"

Lessil looked at him, surprisingly calm after blowing up. "It's poisonous actually. Makes a beautiful flower though." With that, she walked off in hopes for a nice bath.

* * *

**Reviews will be loved! And I have a pinterest for this fic (cuz I love looking at pictures) if you want to look that up. I have the sight on my profile. **


	5. Dangerous Pursuit

**I wanted to have this posted on Friday, but for the enthusiasm of Songfall, I give it to you early.**

**And dammit. The more I work on this fic, the more I want to write a Tenth Walker fic that includes the race of fairies!**

* * *

**~~**V**~~**

**Dangerous Pursuit**

Thorin had never been so pleased to see the light of morning. Being eaten by a troll was not how he would ever wish to die. Luckily Gandalf came just in time and now the three trolls were stone and were as good as dead themselves. Gandalf finally came around to untie Thorin as Miss Ringali stormed off and he made to help with the others. Getting the others down from the spit wasn't the easiest, but they managed it with the others now helping them pull their clothes back on.

Thorin went over to the wizard who was examining the trolls, tapping one on the shoulder in disgust. "Where did you run off to, if I may ask?"

"To look ahead," the wizard replied.

"What brought you back?" Thorin was slightly curious as to how the wizard came by just as he was needed.

"Looking behind," the wizard answered with a knowing look in his eye. He would have never really abandoned them nor did he. Thorin had to nod at that. They may not agree on somethings, but he was not distrustful of the wizard.

"Nasty business," Gandalf continued, looking toward the trolls. "Still, you're all in one piece."

"No thanks to your burglar," Thorin commented. He still remembered how she told the trolls to shave them all. She didn't understand the pride that went into a dwarf's hair. And she did well to just egg the trolls on if anything. Foolish girl.

Gandalf looked down at him. "She had the nerves to play for _time,_" he responded. "None of the rest of you thought of that."

Thorin had to concede. When Bombur was about to be eaten, quick thinking - even though the thought was absolutely ridiculous - saved his life. While being infected by parasites was positively stupid, so were trolls and the idea bought them a few minutes. Though her nerves didn't last for too long as she began pelting Kili with stones. She missed several times and conked Oin, Balin and Thorin himself a couple times. He could feel the faintest sting on his upper arm now. She had an arm at least.

Gandalf turned back to the trolls. "They must have come down from the Ettenmoors."

"Since when do mountain trolls venture this far south?" Thorin asked, he knew they usually didn't. Men made their settlements here looking at the farm remains they stopped at.

"Not for an age," Gandalf replied. "But they could not have moved in daylight."

Of course. "There must be a cave nearby." Thorin said, already looking around in the probable direction. Trolls were known hoarders, collecting the possession of their victims. It would smell horrible too, but they might just find something worthwhile.

It took a small while for them to find the hoard. If anything, it was the smell that led them right to it...and the flies buzzing around. Thorin held his sword out in front of him just in case there would be another trolls hiding inside, they couldn't take anymore chances.

"What's that stench?" Nori cried.

"It's a troll hoard," Gandalf replied as if it was the obvious answer to the question and it really was. Even Thorin needed to put his arm to his nose to try blocking the stench. "Be careful what you touch."

Bofur, Gloin, and Nori stood near the fallen coins on the ground while Thorin examined the collection of blades. Most of them were Man-made, and he was glad to see no dwarf blades at least. But there were some others that weren't made by men, and nor were they made by any troll. He set his torch down and picked them up. They were covered in dust and cobwebs and Thorin wondered what glory they may have been in their prime. No doubt they could be withering away slightly and in dire need of a whetstone. He handed the longer one to Gandalf and examined the other closely. By the shape of the scabbard he could tell it was a single-edged sword and its shape and weight would compliment his style of fighting.

"These were forged in Gondolin," Gandalf said just as Thorin was about to look at the blade, "by the High Elves of the First Age."

It was a pity. This seemed like a fine blade Thorin could get good use out of. But he had no need for an elvish weapon. He leaned down to put it back.

"You could not wish for a finer blade," Gandalf told him sternly.

Thorin unsheathed the sword slightly and found that it had no need at all for any whetstone, just the smallest bit of dusting. The blade was of flawless make and even after however long it gathered dust in this hoard, it still shone bright and sharp. There were runes inscribed on the blade that were too old for Thorin's knowledge of elvish writing. Gandalf was concedingly right; this was a superior weapon and Thorin would be a fool not to claim it, even with its origins.

Gandalf, contented with his new find, left the cave with the dusty blade at his shoulder. But Thorin lingered over the swords, perhaps there was still something else here worthwhile. And another one did catch his eye; it was slightly shorter and thinner than his own, some over two feet long. The scabbard showed the blade to be another single-edged weapon with a curved point. It was made to give light and swift movements and perfect to use with one hand. Though it was the handle that caught his eye; a vein of gold wire went down the middle with thinner veins shooting out from the sides, giving a pattern much like a leaf. It even had an emerald set at the very top in the shape of a leaf.

While Thorin had never seen a fairy weapon, he knew their craftsmanship well enough and this was definitely it. They had something of a more flamboyant style in their craft even with a blade, though it was subtle enough not to seem overdone. Thorin looked at the blade and saw that it too had no visible wear on it either. It was still usable.

Kili said that he would toughen her up, he'd better start.

* * *

When Lessil returned to the camp she saw that the four ponies had returned to the others. Good. And she remembered seeing a stream not a quarter mile from the house as well, even better. She rummaged through her pack and pulled out fresh clothes. There was also some wild lavender behind the farmhouse ruins and she grabbed about half of it before making her way over for to bathe. She scrubbed herself over five times with the lavender and sniffed at her skin to make sure that the scent of troll still didn't linger on her. Just lavender.

The dwarves had returned to camp by the time she came back and Oin even had a fire going. Lessil promptly tossed her old clothes on top of it. "You don't want to do that, lass," he told her.

"You didn't smell them," she replied dully. They smelled awful and nothing was going to make her put them back on...ever. "And are any of you going to get a bath as well? Troll still lingers on you."

"Perhaps after we've had some rest," Oin replied, though Lessil wasn't all that inclined to believe him. They'd better get one eventually or Lessil might just toss them in a stream and scrub at them herself.

By that time, Thorin, Gandalf, and the others were back. It seemed they found the trolls' cave and even took a few treasures. Thorin went right up to her and tossed one of the swords he carried at her. "You can get some use out of this," he told her.

Lessil fumbled as she kept it from dropping to the ground. It was covered in dust and cobwebs and smelled of troll. More lavender then. But this was a sword. She shook her head. "No fairy has held a blade in three thousand years."

Thorin glanced at her, his eyes narrowing momentarily. "Then it is good you're only half-fairy. Fili and Kili can help you wield it properly."

She could see there was no arguing with Thorin so Lessil said no more. She looked at the blade and slowly pulled it from the sheath. The sword still shone brightly despite being covered in perhaps hundreds of years of dust. There was no rust to be seen and the edge still had some sharpness. It was light too. She pulled it out fully and the weight didn't have her gripping it with both hands.

"That is a lovely blade," Oin commented.

Lessil nodded. Though she in hardly any position to use it now. She was exhausted. Being kept up all night at the mercy of trolls could do that. Luckily Thorin thought the same and insisted that they would continue on the next morning. He'd just finished speaking when Lessil laid her head down on her bag and fell asleep.

* * *

It seemed Thorin had immediately told Fili and Kili that Lessil had a new blade she needed to learn how to wield. As soon as she was awake and had breakfast...well, lunch actually, they already had the sheathe cleaned and the blade dusted and sharpened - though it didn't need much. The first thing they did was properly attach the sheathe to her belt so she could smoothly pull the blade out and hold it in front of her without pausing. At first, it seemed ridiculous to Lessil, but after five times she noticed how much difference it made. That and it helped her grow more accustomed to the weight of the blade in her hand. Then it was her grip, assuring that it wasn't held gingerly - as she was initially inclined to do - but no death grip either. It was odd how different holding a sword felt in comparison to a knife. Though she never realy learned to fight with a knife and brandished it enough times to count. She just never had the need for weapons.

But out here in the wild she would have to learn. The dwarves wouldn't be beside her at every single moment and it was in those times that the barest seconds counted more than anything. The fairy blade was easy to hold in Lessil's hand - she could tell its make for the last time she was in Nengalad she did look into the old armory, they may not wield them anymore but they kept the weapons anyway. Though the first thing she worried was that it would get knocked out of her hand or it was too thin for piercing. Kili assured her that a sharp enough blade can hack at just about anything, despite the thin blade, and so long as she maintained her grip, the sword wasn't going anywhere. Fili even insisted that she hold the blade when they weren't practicing and just keep the grip. So as Lessil waited for Bombur to finish cooking supper, she held the blade and gently waved it, controlling her grip. It was an odd feeling...to wield a weapon.

By the time she laid down to sleep, Lessil's limbs felt heavy. They didn't ache at least, but it was only a small consolation. She hadn't even learned any moves with it yet, just stance and positioning. Kili told her that she would be doing any fighting until she knew how to move correctly. Fighting wasn't just swinging a sword, it took coordinated muscle movements that the body had to learn. As interesting as it was to learn about, it still felt tedious. At least it may come in handy in the future.

They were up and moving the next morning and continued just as usual. Lessil was surprisingly able to wake up on the early side despite being covered in aches the night before. But she was a quick heal and only the bare traces of stiffness clawed at her when she awoke in the morning. And it worked perfectly in her favor as she stood over Fili and Kill an proceeded to trickled their waterskins over their faces to wake them. The both startled out of their sleep and shot exasperated looks at Lessil as they realized just what happened.

"Is that going to be all for your revenge?" Fili asked with a slight grin.

Lessil shook her head. "Not even close." Thorin hadn't done much to reprimand them for losing the ponies in the first place from what she knew. They were all alive at least and it seemed to be good enough for him. Lessil didn't share that thought. She didn't grudge the boys, but pouring water on them sure felt good. Perhaps it may even influence them to take a bath. They were beginning to smell in a way that Lessil couldn't quite ignore.

Though the boys weren't so offended by her little revenge and trailed at her side just as they did before.

"Why don't fairies fight anymore?" Fili asked as the sun reached overhead. They'd been talking about the craftsmanship of Lessil's blade, and she believed it to be the work of the Venrelas fairy family to the east. Where the Ringali family spent more of their time near the waters - Nengalad was in fact filled with many oases of pure blue water - the fairies of Laerormen to the east had a great love of strong trees. In fact many said Laerormen was the fairy counterpart of Lothlorien.

Lessil told them of the massive kinslaying in the last centuries of the previous age. There was no fairy alive today who knew of this first hand, but the trauma was more than enough to last through the generations. Most of the refugee fairies made their new home in Nengalad, but the memory of their former home still remained in their hearts and the grief of never being able to return.

"But can't they rebuild?" Kili asked. "When we retake Erebor it's bound to be a little worse for wear, but it can be patched up and made new."

Lessil shook her head. "If Marillia could be made new again, it would have already been done. It was just over three thousand years ago that it was destroyed. But the realm is beyond repair and nothing there will grow again."

"That almost seems like Moria," Fili commented. "Perhaps one day the dwarves will reclaim that realm as well."

"Would you lead that campaign then?" Lessil chuckled.

"Well, there's something down there that uncle never speaks of," Fili continued, "and it's not orcs or goblins. I've heard some others call it Durin's Bane, but that doesn't really give much of an idea as to what it is."

"I believe if Thorin doesn't wish to speak of it, then he would rather you not know it," Lessil replied. "It may be even something that makes him slightly scared."

"Thorin? Scared?" Kili scoffed. "I don't think you quite understand him. There's little, if nothing, he's afraid of."

"Everyone has fears," Lessil argued. "Some may just be better at controlling them than others. As a leader, Thorin wouldn't have the luxury of letting his fears get the better of him."

Thorin had them stopping a bit earlier this time and sent Fili and Kili to scout ahead, Ori and Bifur were with the ponies, watching vigilantly. This time it was Balin who helped Lessil with her sword training. This time at least there were actual movements being done. Balin didn't spar against her - she wasn't up to that yet - but had her practicing strokes again and again until her arm felt like falling off.

Fili and Kili didn't need to report what they saw on their scout. Before they returned, two wargs had approached their camp. One was about to pounce on Dori but Thorin came right to his defense, and the second one nearly bit at Thorin if it hadn't been for Dwalin's ax. The boys came back just in time to tell them that an orc pack was right outside the forest.

Lessil heard the howl too. It was too coarse and bellowing to be a true wolf, so she could only guess it wasn't an actual one. "An orc pack?"

"Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?" Gandalf demanded.

"No one," Thorin answered.

"Who did you tell!" Gandalf repeated.

"No one, I swear!" Thorin insisted. "What in Durin's name is going on?"

Gandalf gave him a grave look. "You are being hunted."

Dwalin's expression hardened. "We have to get out of here."

Just then Ori and Bifur came through the trees. "The ponies bolted. Just as they heard the wargs' howl."

Lessil grabbed at her hair with both hands. So they were being hunted by orcs on wargs and had no way to escaping them. A warg could outrun them in less than a minute. What were they going to do? Thorin verbally expressed her worry.

"I have an idea that may buy us some time," Gandalf said. "If I'm right, then they should be after you, Thorin. So they'll be chasing you."

Lessil was the first to speak, surprisingly. "Are you mad, you crazy wizard?" she stammered. "They'd eat him alive in less than a minute!" Thorin didn't like the plan either, but he sensed that there was something Gandalf wasn't saying.

"They think it will be him," Gandalf continued. "Only we will know otherwise."

* * *

A white horse leaped out from the forest with warg instantly on its tail. Yes, a horse...not a pony. A pony would never be able to outrun a Gundabad Warg so Gandalf made an illusion of Thorin riding a great white stallion. The dwarf looked terribly small on it, but seemed to manage.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Lessil had asked, staring at the stationary "Thorin" in front of her. He did not look right on a horse, it made him look even smaller.

From beside her, Thorin thought the same. "There are few dwarves who could ever really ride a full grown horse," he commented, "and I am not one of them."

"Maybe they'll just see your mug and forget the details," Lessil murmured dryly. "But Gandalf, is this really going to work? It's obviously an illusion." And it was, "Thorin's" expression was completely dead and his limbs were stiff as a board. Not only that, but he and the horse were semi-transparent. If the orcs could see _through_ Thorin, then they would never fall for it.

Gandalf smiled at her. "That's because you know it's one," he told her with a knowing look in his eye. Lessil actually nodded with a slight grin. Just like her own gift.

The wizard watched as the orc pack took the bait and chased the illusion down. It seemed to matter not that Thorin was alone in their eyes. But that only served to confirm his old suspicions; that it was indeed the heir of Durin they were after. But he could wonder why later. Now he needed to get the dwarves to safety, and he knew of just the place. "Come on."

The dwarves and Lessil followed him from behind the rocks and down into the plains. Gandalf was sure he heard the howls of even more wargs chasing down the illusion. But that was good since their attention was fixed on it and not them. Right now he gave the illusion free rein to move in whatever direction it needed to since wargs weren't easy to outrun, but that meant it had to remain in range of Gandalf.

As they nearly past more of the rocks, the pack of wargs crossed their trail from the hill. They were so fixed on catching it that they didn't notice their group and luckily hadn't caught it yet. But the true Thorin turned on the wizard. "We can't run away from them if you keep leading them in circles," the dwarf snapped.

"We're still alive, aren't we?" Gandalf shot back. "I would like to see you do better!" Normally the wizard wasn't so rude and snappy, but in this situation he couldn't help himself. If the wargs reached them before they made it to the passage, they were done.

And Thorin didn't begrudge Gandalf, he was doing the best he could to keep them alive. They wouldn't have made it five paces from the forest, let alone this far. But where was safe? They were in open plains with no settlements for miles. There was no place for them to go. And the illusion wasn't going to last forever. But it was working so far as the orc chase swept right by them. Thorin had to hold Ori back before they might catch his movements or scent. They waited precious seconds for the pack to move on before they left their slight hiding place.

"Come on, quick," Gandalf whispered hurriedly, gesturing south a small ways.

"Where are you leading us?" Thorin asked. It seemed the wizard did have a destination in mind. And there was only one place they could take refuge from an orc pack. Thorin liked it nonetheless.

Gandalf didn't answer, but moved on, and Thorin had no choice but to follow. He'd either follow the wizard or wait for the wargs to take them all.

The orc pack crossed them yet again and the company pressed their back against a large stone outcropping and out of sight. But there was trouble this time. A lone warg scout with a rider stood lookout just above them. It seemed at least one of them thought they were being tricked. This wasn't going to last long. The warg was probably going to discover them and call the others to it. But if they killed it? Still risky.

But there was nothing left to do.

Thorin looked to Kili at his left and nodded toward the boy's bow. One good shot. Kili nodded and slowly lifted an arrow from his quiver. He carefully nocked it before leaping from the stone and shooting at the warg. But the beast didn't die, it had been a hasty shot just above its shoulder. The warg snarled loudly and attempted to snatch the shaft from its hide with its teeth. The orc on top reached for its horn but Kili shot again and they tumbled down before it got the chance. It was too late though, as the loud roar could be heard echoing through the plains.

The orc tried to come at them, but Dwalin quickly dispatched it with one swing of his ax. He, Bifur, and Thorin then killed the warg just in time to hear the wargs back on the hunt again. This time, they had a new target.

Gandalf knew that his illusion was useless now. He let it go and cried out to the dwarves. Perhaps they could still make it. There were so close. "Move! Run!"

They didn't bother using the rocks for cover. It didn't matter now, they just ran. There was no escaping. But hopefully the pack wouldn't be too big for them. There were thirteen of them that could fight along with Gandalf. A pack might hold twenty wargs and perhaps five orcs. They might manage.

It wasn't long before they were surrounded. The wargs slowly began to close in on them. Thorin looked to Miss Ringali. "Against the rocks, now!" he shouted at her. From next to her, Balin pushed her behind them and she quickly took incentive. At least she held out her blade, even if it wouldn't do her much good.

"Kili, shoot them!" Thorin demanded. If they could take a few out before the pack was upon them...

"We're surrounded!" Fili hollered.

"Where's Gandalf?" Bofur cried.

Thorin looked around but didn't see the Grey Wizard. But he was just behind them. Where did he go? He couldn't have disappeared.

"He abandoned us!" Dwalin growled.

_No,_ Thorin thought. Gandalf was never so cruel. He held Orcist in front of him, prepared to go down fighting.

"This way, you fools!"

Thorin turned to see Gandalf peak his head from behind the rocks. It seemed he found a safe passage.

"Move!" he called to his dwarves, as well as the fairy who instantly scrambled after the wizard. Ori and Gloin were the first ones down, followed by Balin, Fili, and Oin. Kili and Bofur were still a small ways away and Thorin called for them. A warg was making its way for Bombur but Thorin cut right into its path and sliced a killing blow to its neck. Bombur, Dori, and Nori just jumped down the pass when Dwalin shouted for Bofur.

Thorin turned to see a warg pounce on Bofur and tear at his shoulder. Bifur was immediately there to kill the warg, but the damage had been done. Dwalin went over, hauled Bofur over his shoulder and made for the stones. Thorin only leaped down once they were all fine.

Lessil watched as the dwarves all rolled and slid down the stone passage way. This wasn't just a cave. She'd noticed a pathway leading somewhere just behind them. Gandalf stood next to her counting the dwarves as they came down. It was a shock to see Dwalin tumbling down with one of them over her shoulder, but then her stomach sank as she saw Bofur with his eyes glazed over in pain.

"Bofur!" Bombur cried. Being a healer himself, Oin was over him immediately. From her position, Lessil could see that somehow a warg had taken a bite out of Bofur's shoulder. He didn't hit the neck at least and the dwarf was still huffing out breath. He wouldn't last the hour, not losing that much blood.

Lessil shoved aside the dwarves who crowded around him. "Let me through." She didn't care to hear any of their protests, not even Gandalf's warning her not to do what she was planning. But she could help Bofur, and she had to do it now. She nudged around Oin the best she could, though he hardly gave her any arm room. But she only saw Bofur and the blood coating his sleeve.

She placed her hands, one on top of the other, over the bloody wound and did what she did best. She healed.

The pain was intense. The fact that Bofur was still conscious was amazing. The wet, stickiness of blood began to ooze over her shoulder and down her sleeve. It would heal quicker on her body, but would it be quick enough? That didn't matter, what did was that Bofur would live. He deserved to live.

It took less than a minute for her task to be done and already black and white spots were covering her vision. She'd healed many things in her lifetime so far; illness, broken bones, heavy bruises, even helped a few childbirths. But this one had to be the toughest. Lessil collapsed to the ground and just before the black oblivion took her, blue-grey eyes stared right into hers.

* * *

Thorin stared at Miss Ringali, wonder just what she was doing. Pressing the wound down it seemed, but Oin could have done that as well. Not only that, but she was concentrating hard on...something. He looked down at Bofur, whose skin was going pale and his breath shallow. They couldn't linger here. They needed to get to a safe place and tend to him properly.

He was about to give the order when she collapsed on her side, a dazed look on her face. Thorin leaned over her. Was she hurt as well? It wasn't possible. No warg had come near her before she leapt into the passage.

"Get up," Thorin snapped. But the girl merely wobbled under his grip.

"What happened?"

Thorin snapped his gaze at Bofur, who just spoke aloud. He was dazed and his voice slurred, but he was actually looking better.

"Thank Durin you're alright!" Bormur cried. Bifur was thankful as well.

But Oin was also like Thorin, suspicious. He patted at Bofur's shoulder that was still coated in red blood. He gently pulled apart the fabric to look at the wound. "It's gone!"

"What's gone?" Bombur asked.

"The wound!" Oin gasped. "There's not even a scar!"

_How is that possible? _Thorin thought, looking back at Miss Ringali. Her eyes were closed and it seemed she lost consciousness. But that wasn't all.

Blood pooled at her left sleeve...just like Bofur.

Only there was no tearing at her dress. Thorin pulled at the collar of her dress and pushed it over her shoulder. Under the coursing blood, he could see the scarring of a warg bite. She'd...she'd taken wound upon herself.

_I'm a healer actually._

"Give me a waterskin!" Thorin heard Gandalf demand from behind him. He was still wondering what exactly the fairy had done when Gandalf knelt at her other side and began pouring water over the wound. The wizard was hardly careful as he poured an entire two waterskins on the girl's shoulder. And surprisingly, the bleeding began to slow.

"What is this?" Thorin asked the wizard. What power did this fairy possess?

Gandalf looked him in the eye. "This is the legacy of Nemiros Ringali. The power to heal nearly any injury within moments."

* * *

**Another amendment to this fic is that Radagast doesn't make an appearance. For me, he's just apart of the secondary story, the one that ties to LOTR, so I didn't feel that he was necessary here.**


	6. The Homely House

**This chapter was somewhat hard to write. Not only that, but I'm just now really starting to know Lessil and what impact this quest is going to have on her. I desperately don't want her to become emotionally stale and ignore what she's doing here. I'm not here to merely replace Bilbo and have a romance. I'm really aiming for an engaging story.**

**But moving on, here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

**~~**VI**~~**

**The Homely House**

At the moment, Thorin wasn't concerned about what exactly the fairy had done, but that she did it and now she was the one wounded. If she was to be their burglar, she had to get to the Lonely Mountain preferably alive. Had Bofur managed to survive his wounds, then Thorin would have someone stay with him while the rest continued on. It would take too long to heal and Thorin didn't want anyone with a liability in the company. All the dwarves knew this and accepted it.

But she was their burglar, she couldn't exactly be left behind. Thorin heaved the girl over his shoulder and stood. Gandalf had led them into a cave and Thorin thought it best to follow.

"What happened to Snowy?" Bofur asked and his brother and cousin helped him up. "Was she hurt too?"

"She's hurt with your injury," Thorin answered shortly as he made his way through the tunnel. He wanted to curse at her recklessness when he heard her moan in pain over his shoulder. He'd forgotten what she said about being a healer and honestly he'd thought she was like Oin. Never did he think she would have some sort of power. He knew of Nemiros Ringali and the tales of him bringing people back from the threshold of death, but Thorin had thought they were merely that. Tales.

Besides, the fairy hadn't brought Bofur back from dying. He was heavily wounded, but the chance of dying wouldn't have happened for quite a while. Well tended, and he had a good chance of surviving. Hopefully Gandalf was leading them somewhere that they could possibly see refuge.

What he didn't expect was to leave the tunnel and see Rivendell. Both the wizard and the fairy had wanted them to come here and while Thorin adamantly said no, Gandalf brought them here anyway.

"The Valley of Imladris," Gandalf announced from behind them as the dwarves all looked upon the elven home. "In the common tongue it is known as Rivendell."

The dwarves were hardly impressed that they ended up in an elven home and Thorin was far from pleased. He turned toward the wizard. "This was your plan all along," Thorin hissed, "to seek refuge with our enemy."

Gandalf's face hardened. "You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill will to be found here is that of which you bring yourself. We were just run off the road by a warg pack. We lost our ponies and half our supplies. Plus, we have an injured companion. Lessil needs to be tended to, lest you forget she saved Bofur's life. Swallow your pride for once."

Thorin felt his lip twitch. "And do you think she will live herself?" Such a tiny one, a small girl, and she carried a warg bite. Honestly, Thorin didn't have a whole lot of hope in that.

"She will," the wizard snapped, "which is why we need to move now."

They made their way down the stone pathway with the wizard at the head. Thorin still did not like entering an elven home. If the elves were to find out about the quest, then they would try stopping them. Gandalf had wanted Lord Elrond to look at their map and it wouldn't take much to figure out the next step. And if Elrond wanted to stop them, he could very well keep them from leaving.

The company stepped onto the stone pavilion and already an elf descended the steps to greet them. "Mithrandir." Well, the wizard at least.

"Lindir," Gandalf greeted back. "We have one who is injured with us. A fairy. She needs healing."

The elf, Lindir, glanced at the fairy on Thorin's shoulder and looked back to the guards at the top of the stair. He said something in elvish and one of the guards came down. The guard gathered the fairy in his arms and took her away.

"Keep water on her wounds," Gandalf called as the guard left.

Now they had to wait for the company of elves.

* * *

Lessil awoke to the coolness of water on her shoulder, though surprisingly it barely even ached. Not only that, but her entire body was cuddled gently in fine sheets and a lovely cushioned bed. It was late morning and the sun shined through whatever window to Lessil's right. It wasn't too intense to make her squint, but she still took a minute to open groggy eyes.

At her bedside sat an elf who gently dripped a cold water cloth over her shoulder. He was an older elf. Well, perhaps older wasn't the right word...wiser, that was it. His features were sharp and commanding, with grey eyes and a silver circlet at his brow. His dark hair was pulled back into simple braids and his robes were of a rich, burnt brown colored material.

"You are awake earlier than expected," the elf said.

"How long has it been?" Lessil asked.

"You were brought here yesterday afternoon," the elf answered. "You are in Rivendell, my home."

"You're Lord Elrond," Lessil breathed.

"And you are a Ringali," Lord Elrond commented, "though there have only been very few pairings between men and fairies. It is a surprise that your gift is still strong despite your mixed blood."

Lessil nodded. "My mother wondered that too. My sister doesn't have much talent for it."

Lord Elrond nodded. "It is fortunate for you and your dwarf companion that it does work well."

Lessil gasped, remembering the dwarves. Were they alright? "How are they?"

"They are fine, young one," Lord Elrond assured her, "even managed to enjoy themselves somewhat at dinner."

Lessil grimaced. "Did they make a big mess?"

Lord Elrond gave a small smile. "You speak as if from experience."

"They emptied me of my pantry and stores and proceeded to dump just about half of it on the floor," Lessil replied a slight grin on her face. She still remembered how long it took to clean her house of not only that, but the mud stains on the carpets. Hopefully Lord Elrond wouldn't be too offended. It seemed that he wasn't. More bemused than anything.

Lord Elrond gave the smallest chuckle. "You seem slightly fond of them. Interesting to see a fairy among such companions."

"I met them in Bree," Lessil said. It wasn't exactly a lie and she didn't have to give out details.

Luckily, Lord Elrond didn't press for them. "Would you like to see them?" he asked.

"Yes, please," Lessil answered, sitting up on the bed. Her shoulder hardly ached anymore, though it still felt tender. Okay, she was lying to herself before, childbirth was definitely harder. The pangs that would go through her belly made it feel like she was giving birth herself even though there was no chance of that. And then after, her belly felt sore and jelly-like for the rest of the day. No, there was nothing more difficult than that. She touched at her shoulder and felt hardened scabs. The water had leaked off any crusted blood and helped it heal well.

Lord Elrond helped her into a deep green robe to wear over her shift and led her through Rivendell. They walked slowly, mostly for Lessil to look around the elven home. She could see some elves walking through the upper halls and leaning over the railings. Some saw the two of them and inclined their heads. Lessil returned it.

"Have there been many fairies who come through here?" she asked.

"A few throughout the years," Lord Elrond answered, and by a few years in his eyes, that would probably mean a few every couple hundred years. "The last fairy to pass through here was a Ringali. Another half-fairy. Wisteria."

Lessil nodded. "My sister."

"She spoke about you often, Lessil," Lord Elrond said.

She looked up at him, surprised that he knew her name when she had never told him. She also wanted to curse herself for not respectfully introducing herself, but it didn't seem to matter to Lord Elrond. "Of course," Lessil decided to reply, "Wisty has probably traveled just about everywhere."

Lord Elrond did not reply to that, but showed her to the door of the dwarves' rooms. The rooms, as the elven lord said, were quite spacious and they all wanted to stick together. Sounded like them. Lessil curtsied to Lord Elrond in thanks and knocked on the door.

She pushed it open to see the dwarves sitting about in the big, open room. The had a small fire going surprisingly and even a few good morsels of meat. While elves did eat meat, they did not do it often. The dwarves had probably complained about the vegetables and greens and wanted some. Lessil wondered if they had actually whined about it.

Bofur was the first to see her enter. "Snowy!" he cried, coming over to her. He was careful about her shoulder and placed his hand lower as he grasped at her for a friendly greeting and kissed her cheek. In turn, Lessil wrapped her arms around him and gave him a fierce hug. She was glad he was alright.

Fili and Kili came next, as well as Ori. "I didn't expect you to be up so soon," Fili said. "You don't want to strain your wound. It looked pretty nasty."

Lessil shook her head. "I'm fine, really."

"You shouldn't be up so soon."

She looked up to see Thorin coming over next. She wondered just how deep the wound had actually been. She didn't get a proper look, too much blood was in the way as well as Bofur's clothing. But it didn't seem to be immediately fatal as Lessil was up and moderately healed so quickly. "I'm fine," Lessil repeated. "Look." She pulled her robe and shift over her shoulder to reveal the scabbed over wound that looked weeks old instead of mere hours.

"That's not natural," she heard Dori murmur. Others began grumbling as well, even Oin. That was a surprise, Lessil thought that he would be somewhat impressed by her healing power.

"It's my family's power," Lessil explained. "I try not to use it very often for obvious reasons, but when I do use it, the water helps it heal faster on my body."

"You are not to do that again," Thorin snapped.

Lessil looked up at him, taken aback.

But before she got to speak, Thorin continued. "I don't need you taking any injury before we reach the Lonely Mountain. We do not need any wayward magic, either."

Lessil shook her head. "But my other gift? Being unseen. You're willing to use that."

"Just don't," Thorin said, his tone making it final. She watched as he walked away. Shaking her head, Lessil only thought one thing, _Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves._

Gritting her teeth, Lessil stormed out of the dwarves' chambers, not at all surprised that none of them tried to stop her, or even call after her. Stubborn dwarves! It seemed that every time she tried to help them, they brushed her off and called her a nuisance. She was nothing more than a little damsel to them when she healed a grave wound from one of them, distracted trolls for them, was willing to face a dragon for them. Sometimes it seemed that they were just using her.

She stopped at the top of the stair she just climbed. Were they just using her? Most of them didn't really like her or even care to hold a conversation. To them, she was probably just a naive girl who knew nothing of the wild. Though on their part they were right.

Lessil sighed. What was she doing here? What was she thinking in heading out her door among the company of thirteen dwarves she'd just met? She wasn't. She been coerced into thinking it was her idea and that this was a just cause. But then again, it was hardly different from home. There she was the town healer. The townspeople were always courteous to her and there were a few, Margrit included, that were willing to befriend her at least. But there was always a wall between them and her.

In Nengalad, it was similar. Lessil had been there only a few times and found it be quite quaint. But it was also fragile. Half the fairies were on edge about conflict and took strides to avoid even disagreement. Their scars went deep.

It seemed that, no matter where she went, Lessil just didn't belong.

* * *

Another reason Thorin did not like elves were their scrutiny. Lord Elrond was indeed respectful and did not show discourtesy, Thorin could still see his thoughts as if they were written upon his face.

And he was getting quite annoyed with Gandalf as well. "I did not know that our business was also that of the elves," he quipped. "The map is mine to protect, as are its secrets."

"Just show Lord Elrond the map," Gandalf said, his patience wearing thin. "I did not give you that map and key for you to hold onto the past."

"I did not know that they were yours to keep!" Thorin snapped.

Then did Gandalf lose his patience. "Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves," he grumbled. "Your pride with be your downfall, Thorin Oakenshield." The wizard snapped the butt of his staff to the stone floor in annoyance. "You stand before the few in Middle-Earth who can read that map. You don't even know all of its secrets and if you do not let go of your pride, you may never learn them."

Thorin stood tall against the wizard. He did not trust elves. And he did not trust Lord Elrond to keep from dissuading them from continuing on if he learned of their quest. It was a risk that Thorin did not want to take. From next to him, Balin seemed to agree. But Thorin looked over to Fili at his other side; his heir, his nephew, his legacy. This was more than just him. This was for his people. While he still lived, he did not want to see them brought so low without any hope that they could rise to greatness again. If they succeeded, Fili would be a king and not just a lowly dwarf lord. He deserved as much. He reached for the map within his coat pocket.

"Thorin, no," Balin tried to stop him, but with a raised hand, Thorin stopped him. He held out the map to Lord Elrond.

The elf lord took the folded map and gently opened it. His eyes turned sharply to Thorin's as he saw just what the map showed. "Erebor. What is you interest in this map?"

Surprisingly, it was Fili who answered. "I wanted to learn about my great-grandfather's kingdom," he said. "I never got to see it myself and when Gandalf showed us the map, I wanted to learn more. We were hoping our cousin, Dain, from the Iron Hills would know something about it. But then Gandalf insisted we come here."

Thorin was mildly surprised that Fili could come up with such an explanation on spot. It even sounded reasonable coming from him. Even Gandalf seemed satisfied with the answer.

It appeased Lord Elrond as well. He gently quirked a brow and began examining the map, looking for any hidden secrets the map may contain. The sky was dark as night had fallen about an hour ago, though the light of the moon still shown through the clouds and gave them enought light to see. Elrond shifted the map toward a beam of moonlight and peered at the parchment. "There are Moon Runes upon this map," he said. "But these ones are specific. They can only be read by the light of a moon of the same shape and season on the day of which they were written." He turned back to the three dwarves.

And there was only one thing to say. "Can you read them?" Thorin asked.

"Follow me."

~~*.*~~

They came to a small cliff under one of the small waterfalls. It overlooked at steep drop from a cliff that was oddly smooth to Thorin's eyes. It seemed that everything in Rivendell was perfectly tended as well as natural. The perfect balance.

The only thing on this ledge was a pedestal that looked to be made of pure crystal or something of the like. It stood just under Thorin's chest. Elrond made right for it. "These runes were written on a Mid-Summer's Eve by the light of a crescent moon nearly two hundred years ago," he said, placing the map on the pedestal and flattening out the map. "It seems that you were meant to come to Rivendell. Fate is with you, Thorin Oakenshield," Elrond turned to him, "as the same moon shines upon us tonight."

Thorin looked up as the clouds shifted to show them the moon in its slim shape, resembling a fingernail. As moonlight showed, the pedestal shown with a brilliant light, the map as well. Small runes could be seen forming upon the map in white writing. Thorin leaned over the pedestal, taking in the runes. He couldn't help but read them quickly.

Lord Elrond though, read them more slowly. "'Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole'."

Durin's Day. It was only a couple months away. At their pace, they would be cutting it far too close, especially now that they had lost their ponies. They would probably be unlucky enough to have to pass through Mirkwood.

"So that is what this is," Lord Elrond commented. "A secret passage into Erebor. I am mildly surprised that you did not know about this, Thorin, but your grandfather probably did. It would have been used for his safety."

Thorin nodded. And it would also be a way in. But he didn't dare say this aloud in the elf lord's company. He gave a hard stare to Balin and Fili as well to keep their mouths shut. They would speak of this when they returned to the others. He inclined his head to Lord Elrond, "My thanks."

Elrond nodded his head as well and handed Thorin back the map. He left with Balin and Fili behind him.

* * *

Lessil had returned to her rooms and continued to rest. She actually got back to sleep and awoke at dusk. She lay in her soft bed and watched as the light faded from the walls and the shadows grew longer. She lay there in silence with only the light of the stars as her company.

Was she just here being used? Her thoughts turned back to that. Did it even matter? She could understand Thorin's reasoning for undertaking this quest, but she could quite guess Gandalf's. What did he stand to gain from this? Being a humble wizard, Lessil doubted that Gandalf wanted any of the treasure within the mountain. Her contract stated that she would get a fourteenth of the treasure, and so would the other dwarves. So Gandalf wasn't a part of that. And he and Thorin didn't seem to be on the best of terms. Granted Thorin was much, much more open to the wizard than he would ever be to elves, but he didn't seem like Gandalf's favorite person.

Gandalf also wasn't one to having his own agenda. He didn't think of this quest to aid himself. Yes, he did often do small little deeds to help people, but _small deeds._ Reclaiming a mountain from a dragon was not a _small_ deed. It was hopeless.

Lessil thought in circles until she groaned aloud as a headache wanted to form. She threw off the sheets and went to the balcony of her room. She leaned against the railing and closed her eyes as the cool night air brushed against her face.

"Of course I was going to tell you."

Lessil opened her eyes and peered over the balcony to see Gandalf and Lord Elrond walking through the stone pathways a good ways away. With her good hearing, Lessil could just make out their words. It was Gandalf who spoke.

"I was waiting for this very chance. With Lessil injured and us being chased off the road, some calm was very much needed. And I think you can trust that I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?" asked Elrond. "That dragon has been slumbering for sixty years. What should happen if your plan should fail? Are you aware of what consequences shall arise if you waken that beast?"

"What if we succeed?" Gandalf exclaimed. "If the dwarves take back the mountain? Our defenses in the east will be strengthened."

"Yes, but there are major flaws to your plan, Gandalf," Elrond said, "You will have Lessil take the Arkenstone from the dragon so the dwarves will unite and kill the beast. I don't doubt that she has her people's gift since her other one is so strong, but do you think it wise to have her with you?"

"Why shouldn't she be?"

"Even half, she is still a fairy, Gandalf. Aversion to conflict was bred within her. Not only that, but for a healer as well. You will bring war and grief upon her and she may not be ready for it."

"I will have no such thing!" Gandalf rebuked.

"Do you? This is a dangerous move, Gandalf."

"It is also dangerous to do nothing! Erebor is Thorin's birthright. What is it you fear?"

"Have you forgotten?" This time Lord Elrond stopped in his tracks and faced Gandalf. "A strain of maddness runs deep in that family. His grandfather lost his mind to the treasure hoard that Smaug now sleeps on. His father even, fell to the same sickness. Can you swear that Thorin Oakenshield will not do the same? Gold is evil. Gold sickness is even worse."

That was something that Gandalf failed to mention. Lessil did not know that King Thror had lost his mind. And gold sickness? And the flaws that Lord Elrond so clearly laid out for them were dangerous indeed.

Were they really doing the right thing?


	7. Decisions

**Question from author to reader: Do you find it awkward when the woman is taller than the man in the relationship?**

* * *

**~~**VII**~~**

**Decisions**

Lessil didn't bother leaving her room for the rest of the night. An elf had brought in supper for her and she dined alone.

Gandalf had come by earlier but Lessil did not feel like talking. She couldn't get out of her thoughts and his words with Elrond still swam in her head. The two of them had actually noticed her eavesdropping from afar and, while not looking accusingly at her, Gandalf did look rather reserved and worried. He'd wanted to speak with her, but she had denied him. Instead, she brooded.

She thought of Thorin. Erebor was his birthright, his home. He'd lost his home and his family in quick succession and did everything in his power to rebuild for his people. He was admired greatly by them from what Lessil could see from the rest of the company. He may be cold and rough around the edges, but he couldn't be a bad dwarf if he garnered such loyalty from his people. The way he held himself, strong and high despite the heavy burden on his shoulders. He'd fallen from the tip of the mountain, yet he still had the strength to carry on.

But the gold sickness still weighed on her mind. Gandalf had said that Erebor had been the richest kingdom in Middle-Earth and that such a hoard of gold had brought the dragon upon them. King Thror had lost his mind to it as well. Thorin had been born a wealthy dwarf prince and then exiled to but a lowly dwarf lord. He knew of loss and suffering. Perhaps that would help him see past any greed.

Thorin had pride, but there was also some humility to be seen in him. He did not carry himself in the same manner as the King of Nengalad did. Thorin had the respect of his fellow dwarves, but he did not hold himself above them as kings usually seemed to do. He was willing to collect firewood and hunt for their supper. He made carvings alongside Bifur as they made silent conversation with their hands - Bofur had explained to Lessil that it was a soundless language of the dwarves to be used while mining as sometimes it would be hard to hear in the midst of it - and sang at the camp fires with the others some nights. Despite his gruff exterior, he was a kind leader.

Lessil sat at the dining table, her finished tray of breakfast in front of her, and mused over her thoughts as she held her blade in her hands. She traced her finger over the leaf shape on the pommel and down the gold wiring on the hilt. The cross guard even had the wiring as well. The scabbard was made of a combination of mostly dark, polished wood with some hints of brass at the top and tip of it. The wood felt quite supple and strong underneath her fingers.

As a fairy, Mora had never held a weapon in her life. In fact, no fairy alive today knew how to fight. Fairies weren't immortal, like elves. On average, they lived about two thousand years. Mora had been over seven hundred when she'd married Dahn. They had a simple, quiet life. Dahn was more of a hunter than a warrior, wielding his bow to search for their dinner and occasionally for defense against wild animals. He had insisted that his girls keep a knife on their person when they left home just in case, but even that had unsettled Mora a bit. And when Wisty wanted to learn how to shoot a bow, Mora had protested. But Wisty insisted even without her mother's permission and eventually Mora begrudgingly accepted it. Dahn had eventually given Wisty a bow of her own and they would sometimes go on hunting trips together. Lessil remembered her sister's face, alight with pride and joy as she brought home her own catches.

And after their parents had died and Wisty began traveling on her own. The third time she came back, she'd had a man-made sword strapped to her belt. Lessil hadn't had the same reaction as Mora definitely would have given, but it was still surprising to see her sister wielding a weapon. It made Wisty look even more wild. Beautiful, but wild.

Now Lessil carried a weapon of her own. How her mother would be horrified. Lessil herself was not, but the blade did feel quite a bit foreign to her. Her hand surrounded the grip perfectly and the blade was smooth as she lifted it out of the sheath and pointed it in front of her, but she wasn't a warrior. She was a healer. She tended wounds, she didn't give them.

She pulled the sword fully out of the scabbard and looked up and down the blade. There was some inscription on the blade now that she looked closer. It was in the fairy language, which Lessil actually knew. "'The wind blows through the trees strong and biting, bringing with it the leaf that is swift and sharp'," she read in a murmur. Another reason why this blade would be of the Venrelas family. It sounded like them.

A gentle knock came at the door. It wasn't the pounding of a dwarf and nor was it from Gandalf as it would have sounded like the wood of his staff thumping against the door. "Come in," Lessil called, returning the sword to its sheath.

It was Lord Elrond.

Lessil rose from her chair and gave a light bow.

He inclined his head in return. "How is your wound?" he asked. He had a small wooden box in his hands that he set on the table. It wasn't medicinal supplies as he didn't open it.

"It's healing well, thank you," Lessil said as she sat back down, placing the sword in her lap.

Lord Elrond noticed it as well. "It is Hathelas, the Leaf-Blade," he told her. "It belonged to Iolanthe Venrelas in the First Age."

Lessil stared at the blade. Iolanthe Venrelas had been the wife of Nemiros Ringali. So in a way, the blade was something like her inheritance. Neither the king or queen of Nengalad and Laerormen would have any use for it other than the barest of sentimentality. "Did you know her?" she asked.

"We met," he answered. "I was quite young at the time, but I remember her to be quite fierce. Very different from the gentle soul of Nemiros. But there must have been something gentle in her if he chose her as his mate."

Growing up in the world of Men, the opposite was true. Men were the fighters and women were gentle. An odd switch if that was true of Nemiros and Iolanthe. But in Negalad, Nemiros was always hailed as a wise, compassionate king. His power was said to be legend to all families and that he was highly respected, even sightly more than Iolanthe. Perhaps skill with a blade was not the only thing that made a hero and a legend.

"This was also hers," Elrond continued, opening the small box he brought with him. "Nemiros had it made for her. It is called Nemmírë, the Jewel of Pure Waters." He held out a necklace on the most delicate silver chain that almost shined white. The charm had a jewel more than twice the size of Lessil's thumb that made a slight point at the bottom. It was encased in silver strands that surrounded it. "It was given to me for safe-keeping after their war broke out. It is yours if you want it."

Lessil held the charm in her hand and actually felt the waters held within the stone. From the outside, it looked like a cut stone, but when she looked deep into it, she could see the gentle movement of the water inside. It filled her with warmth. She turned it around and clasped it behind her neck. "Thank you."

Elrond gave a slight nod of his head for an answer and sat down in the chair opposite her. He didn't seem to mind that Lessil was propped in the other two chairs in a more crass manner. She leaned back in her own and extended her feet to the other one, the shift she wore riding up to her knees.

"I hear from Gandalf that you did not want to speak with him," Elrond said, "and that you haven't spent much time with your dwarf companions."

"And to think I worried about them yesterday," Lessil murmured. "It's like half of them don't even like me. But then again, half the people in Bree never really _liked_ me."

"What of Nengalad?" Elrond inquired.

"I'm only half-fairy," Lessil answered. "I come from a different world than them. I used to think myself as soft when I compared myself to my sister, but I'm fierce indeed compared to them."

"They have their reasons for being more placid," Elrond commented.

Lessil nodded. She couldn't help but think that the elven lord wanted to speak with her about what he and Gandalf spoke of. They had both seen her listening. And no doubt Elrond would want to stop them. Perhaps she could find out what he thought, on a more personal level. "I hear that it is unwise to seek the counsel of elves, for they answer both yes and no," Lessil started lightly, "but then their answers are never so simple and maybe they will help me make light of my own thoughts." She turned to Lord Elrond then and saw that he looked quite bemused at her first statement. For a moment she thought that maybe she had offended him, but the corner of his mouth twitched up before he took on a more considering expression.

"My initial advice," he began slowly, "would be against such a quest. The dwarves lost their homeland, yes. They have been forced into poverty that which they have never known and had to rebuild elsewhere. But they have rebuilt well enough since the last few decades to be comfortable again.

"The dragon, Smaug, has been sleeping for sixty years," he went on. "That may be nothing but a blink in its long life, but that isn't nothing to those who still live near the mountain. The longer the dragon remains asleep, the less casualties Esgaroth would have to endure."

Lessil listened patiently. "But that's not all you're worried about."

Lord Elrond shook his head. "No. The last time I saw Thror, there was a strange look in his eye that unsettled me. Erebor was indeed very prosperous, but there is an evil to gold. The amount there was the size of mountains. A dragon's treasure would be enough for it to brood within and even blanket it. Know that dragons are large. Its claw could take the entire floor in this room."

Lessil felt her brows rise. That was _a lot_ of gold. And she was offered a fourteenth of it? That could fill this room maybe three or four times over. What would she do with riches like that? What would anyone do with riches like that?

"King Thror gained a jealous love over this gold," Elrond continued. "He would walk among the miners and craftsman to simply look at the pieces that continued to fill his hoard. He would enter the treasury alone, letting only a very precious few other in, and admire the wealth. He began to mention his vast wealth in every conversation. He reveled in the beauty of the Arkenstone above his throne. Gold sickness is a disease that festers in the mind and poisons everything around it."

Lessil shook her head. "I don't see Thorin acting in such a way. Yes, he knew of these riches, but he's lived so long without it. He's rough around the edges, though most dwarves seem to be, but he has a good heart. Despite losing _everything_, he's done so much for his people that there are some who would even brave facing a dragon for him. This isn't about some gold. This is about their _home._ If you lost Rivendell, would you allow it to stay that way if you had the chance to save it?"

"We elves have lost many of our homes as well. Gondolin, Doriath, and the Havens of Sirion to name a few," Elrond told her. "So have fairies and men, as well as dwarves. It is hard indeed to lose your home. A piece of it will always remain in your heart, causing you to grieve over what you have lost. A tree falls, but underneath is a sapling what can take its place. It is difficult, and may take a long time, but one can move on."

His words did make sense. But Lessil felt like he was giving up too easy. "What if the tree hasn't fallen yet?" she asked. "What if its roots still dig deep?"

Elrond paused before answering, and when he did, it wasn't to answer her question. "What of you? You want to help dwarves whom you know very little reclaim their home? That seems quite hasty and ill prepared."

Lessil chewed on her lip. "Well," she started slowly, "when I see someone injured, I don't think. I just do. I heal. Yes, that may be hasty, but if I didn't act quickly it may be too late.

"And I know that I'm a fairy and we don't like conflict," she rambled on. "But I'm also of Men." She thought of the blade in her lap and how, while she'd balked at it initially, she still held it. Her mother hardly even liked _looking_ at her husband's bow. "I like to think that I'm stronger than others think. At least, I can be."

Lord Elrond looked at her the way her father used to when she was young. He smiled without showing any teeth with a slight twinkle in his eye, but he had a brow quirked up and he did look slightly amused. "What?" she asked, feeling like a child.

"You are just like him," he answered. "Nemiros. Despite being a healer, deep in his heart there was the strength of a warrior."

Lessil smiled. Gentle and fierce. Perhaps there could be room for both traits in her.

Elrond rose from his chair. "May you find strength wherever you deem to travel." He placed a hand on her uninjured shoulder. "You are more than welcome to stay here should you wish it." With that, he left.

As the door closed, Lessil felt her brow knot. So it was true. Elves answered both yes and no.

* * *

Thorin didn't return to their rooms with Balin and Fili. He needed his own space to think upon what the map said. They needed to reach the mountain before Durin's Day. It was Midsummer's Eve yesterday and Durin's Day was still months away. But they had no ponies, which would slow their travels considerably. They needed to leave tomorrow, and hopefully the elves wouldn't try to keep them here. Maybe if they left before first light.

Then there was Miss Ringali. Her wound was surprisingly well healed being but two days old. But she couldn't be slowing them down. If she wasn't ready to leave, then they'd leave her here. Less trouble for him to worry about.

"Thorin?"

He turned to see her walking toward him. She still wore the soft robe and was even barefoot with her hair falling free. Again, Thorin thought she looked too delicate. He thought of his sister, Dis, who was a princess and even she could hold her own in the wild. Miss Ringali knew nothing of it. The scar on her shoulder would hinder her considerably. Not only that, but the delicate way she still held her blade would do her little good. There were goblins in the mountains and at first sight, she would probably run scared. "You should stay here," he told her.

Her brow knotted. "What?"

"You heard me," he said, facing her fully. "We need to get to the Lonely Mountain by a specified time now and you will only slow us down."

She shook her head in disbelief. Why was Thorin being so difficult? "Why do you not like me?" she asked him.

He looked up at her, annoyed. "You would not survive the trek up the mountains, let alone cross them," he answered. "We have need of your gift, but it means nothing if you cannot make it to the mountain alive. It has nothing to do with liking you, but how you do not belong with us."

That set a glare between her brow. "I'm a child of two worlds, and I belong in neither," she said bitterly. "You don't have to tell me where I don't belong, I know it well enough. But don't tell me what I can and can't do."

"Telling yourself that you can cross the Misty Mountains will not make it so," Thorin snapped.

"And you tell yourself that you will reclaim a mountain from a _dragon,_" she shot back. "Will this venture not be the death of you?"

Thorin didn't answer her. Instead, he moved past her, making his way back to his room.

"Honor, loyalty, and a willing heart."

Thorin stopped and turned to her. She held her head high while still tilting it down to look at him. _She's willing to look you in the eye, at least, _Kili had said.

"That was what you said at my table," she continued. "I ran out my door when I barely knew any of you. I still don't. I'm taking _a lot_ on faith here. I'm making my way in the wild, I stared down _trolls,_ I'm learning to use a sword - which for a fairy healer is saying a lot -, I saved Bofur's life, and as much as I ignore it now, I'm going to face a _dragon_ for you. I'm showing you that I have a willing heart, but now I'm asking you to see it."

He remembered those words that he'd spoken to his dwarves as they all surrounded him. Those few had come. Those few were willing to follow him into the wild, on a quest that might be the end of them all. They stood by him because that was what it meant to be a dwarf. To never back down. To fight for those you love. To look at your fear and run straight at it. And right now, she still looked him straight in the eye.

"Be ready to leave before first light tomorrow," he told her. "If you are not ready by then, we will leave you here."

* * *

Lessil was surprised to find the clothing on the bed when she returned to her room. There was four tunics in various shades of blue that were far thicker than the dresses she wore, but they were still butter soft. A few pairs of dark colored trousers were there as well and even a new pair of boots.

At first, she had only just stared at them. She couldn't believe that Lord Elrond would give his consent for them to go. He didn't want them to go. Though Lessil never heard him say it.

Then she saw the note. It was placed at her pillow in elegant script. _The tree with a golden heart is one that can weather any storm._

She was folding her new clothing in her bag when she heard a knock at the door. It wasn't an elf or dwarf this time. "Come in."

Gandalf entered the room, slightly surprised that she was dressed and packing. "I was beginning to think you were not joining us."

Lessil wore her new clothing. Since they were to be leaving before first light, she might as well be dressed when she awoke just in case she was late in doing so. They fit her perfectly and felt surprisingly light in the summer air. The boots were amazing. Fur-lined, they cushioned her feet in a way that she could hike for hours and not get a single blister. There was even some small padding for her to wear on top of her wounds so she could shoulder her pack without much pain. They would be nothing but scars in about a week or five days at the least.

She looked to the wizard. "As I told Thorin, I'm taking a lot on faith here."

Gandalf nodded. "We all are. But faith and hope is something that can bring you a long way. To hold on when another would fall. To see light when others see darkness. To look at someone and say there is still life in them instead of giving them up for dead. You, my dear, have more faith than anyone I have ever met."

Lessil smiled. It was true in a way. Lord Elrond thought that Thorin would fall to gold sickness, but she still saw his heart. A wounded, but good heart.

"I've come to tell you that I have some small business to tend to here," Gandalf continued. "Continue into the mountains and I will reach you as soon as I can. And don't worry, I can move swiftly when I need to."

Lessil was slightly worried that Gandalf wouldn't be accompanying them for a short while, but then he did have a way of showing up in the nick of time. Just like with the trolls. She had faith in the wizard too.

And the next morning, when the fourteen of them climbed the craggy cliffs away from Rivendell. Lessil took one look back at the homely house. There had been something so magical about the place. Different from what she felt in Nengalad. Not only peaceful, but energizing.

Just a single look and Lessil turned around to face the wild.

* * *

**I've noticed a pattern in four of my fics...I like necklaces. Elaniel has one, Kaya has one, Winter has one, and now Lessil is getting one. I would call this a problem, but I don't see it as a **_**problem. **_**It just find it very amusing. But at least they have **_**something**_** of a purpose for later on in these stories. **

**Anyway, if you want to see what Lessil's necklace looks like, here's a link (use no horizontal dashes or spaces): ****https: -/ -/ -www -. -pinterest -. -com -/ -pin -/ -470063279833140264 -/**


	8. Innocent

**I changed the title for this chapter three times. I just couldn't think of a good one. **

**And my answer to the previous chapter's question: Not sure personally as I've never dated a shorter guy (haven't dated much at all actually) but that would not be a deal breaker for me. I have no problem with Lessil being taller than Thorin. I would put the top of his head at her lips. So a good five or six inches. But if you want to picture her shorter than Thorin, then go ahead.**

* * *

**~~**VIII**~~**

**Innocent**

Lessil found herself missing the ponies very much. She'd been a bit wary of Myrtle at first, but the two of them had formed an unlikely friendship. That, and her legs were beginning to ache by supper time. The beginning of the journey was mostly off-foot and now she had to get used to hiking for hours and miles on end.

She was thankful for the boots as while her feet were quite tired, they didn't ache and no blisters were to be found. Rivendell had left their sights before noon and they were back in the wild, heading toward the Misty Mountains. The plains around here were said to be quite treacherous, much like it was in the north and the far east. The farther they got from Rivendell, the more danger they may face.

It had just dawned on Lessil that they were getting closer and closer to their destination. It was easy in the beginning when they were traveling through gentle, roving hills and sitting by a campfire. Granted some of the dwarves, usually Bofur, still pulled out his flute and played, it was still different from before they came to Rivendell. It did not show outwardly, but there was a silent weariness in them.

Lessil sat down and rubbed at her aching legs as Gloin started the fire. Bofur knelt down next to her. "Is your wound okay, lass?" he asked.

When they stopped, the first thing Lessil did was gently pull her pack off her shoulder. The padding had done well not to aggravate her wounds, but there was still the pain of the pressure. "It's fine," she told him. She moved the sleeve of her tunic over her shoulder and looked at it herself. The skin was pink around the line of scabs and from the weight of her pack, but there were no cracks or blood. She took one of the clean cloths from her pack and dribbled some water on it, the coolness felt amazing on the heated skin.

"How does it heal so fast?" Bofur asked.

"The water," Lessil answered. "Whenever I have an injury, whether it's my own or another's, I put water on it and it speeds up the healing process. It was the power of my ancestor and many of my family have it as well." Though they had little reason to use it anymore. When Mora had married Dahn, she used her gift more in those few years than she had ever done so in her own home.

"Do you use this often?"

Lessil nodded. "I'm known in Bree as the town healer, after all," she answered.

Bofur knotted his brow, thoughtful. "Will it still scar?" he inquired.

Lessil bit her lip. "Unfortunately," she answered. She had a few scars from others she had healed before. While the wound left them, it was only transferred to her. They would no longer carry the wound, she would. It was her burden to bear, but she didn't mind it that much.

"Thank you for saving me," Bofur replied, "and Bombur."

She smiled. "Of course."

Just then, Thorin approached them. "Follow me," he said, looking right at Lessil, "and bring your blade."

Knotting her brow, she stood and did as he said. She sent a nervous glance at Bofur, but he was heading toward his brother who was boiling water over the fire to begin making their stew.

She followed Thorin a short ways away from their camp and almost ran into him when he abruptly stopped and turned to face her. She only stared at him dumbly, wondering why he brought her over here.

"Show me your stance," he said.

"Huh?" He wanted to help her practice? Usually Fili, Kili, or Balin helped her with that. But she was tired from hiking all day. Couldn't he wait for her to rest a bit? Her left shoulder was the one injured and the right was her sword arm, so there was a chance she wouldn't strain her wound that much, but...

She was about to voice her opinion, but shut her mouth. Yesterday she'd told him that she was more than willing to be on the journey and that she wanted to show that to him. If she was going to complain, she would only be doing herself a disservice. So she pulled Hathelas from its sheath and did just as Thorin asked.

He took in her stance silently. The first thing he checked was the grip on her blade, but made no adjustments. It seemed all those hours simply holding it made for a good grip.

Thorin's eyes were hard even as they barely looked into hers. Lessil found him to be quite broody and realized that she had yet to see him smile, even the slightest quirk. She wondered what it would take to make him smile. From the harsh life he's led so far, probably something that would be cause for celebration.

"Bend your knees slightly and keep them relaxed," he told her and she did so even as the muscles in her calves began to protest. "Feet planted firmly on the ground. Swordplay is as much footwork as it is blade work."

"Why's that?" Lessil asked.

"The first thing we ever learn is balance, is it not?" Thorin explained to her, surprisingly patient. "And like a dance, battles all start on how you move your feet."

Lessil nodded. It made quite a bit of sense.

"You won't be facing against anyone, even sparring, until you've mastered the basics," he continued.

"What if I need them before then?" Lessil asked timidly.

Thorin's eyes darkened slightly. "Hope you don't."

She decided not to press further but imitated the moves Thorin showed her. His blade fit perfectly in his hand, as if it was made for him. Surprising as it was an elvish blade. "I'm surprised Lord Elrond let you keep it," she said as she paused between strokes.

Thorin nodded. "It is a fine blade, even for elvish make," he replied.

Lessil thought of her blade. "Does it have a name?" she asked. "Mine is Hathelas, the Leaf-Blade. It belonged to my ancestress, in fact."

"Orcrist," Thorin answered plainly, making no mention of her blade. Lessil simply shrugged it off. He wasn't interested in conversation right now.

He had her practicing for an hour before they were finished. It was probably due to the fact that she was so worn out that her movements became sloppy. She held her tongue against any remarks and tried as she could to move right, but he must have seen that being past her limits wasn't going to gain her much progress.

"You alright?" Kili asked as she sat down near them when she and Thorin returned to camp.

"I've been better," Lessil replied, wincing as her legs threatened to buckle underneath her as she moved to sit down. They ached. Even as she sat down, her muscles still buzzed from overuse. The first thing she did was take a large gulp from her waterskin. In drinking more, it would help the soreness dissipate by morning. It would still take a while to get used to such hiking, but it would be bearable for now. Though it meant she would have to drink more than her fair share of water, especially after all the exertion she'd done today.

"I remember when I began learning," Kili told her. "I practiced against Fili with wooden swords. Each day I would come home black and blue. Eventually I became good enough for both of use to return to amad with bruises. We'd sit at dinner and tell her how we got each and every one. She would just shake her head."

Lessil smiled. "Luckily for her they weren't real swords," she remarked.

Kili grinned. "Oh no, that came next."

Her smiled dropped. "Wait, if you made each other black and blue with wooden swords, what happened when you practiced with _real blades?_"

The young dwarf merely kept the grin on his face. "Don't worry, Snowy, sparring with blades is only for when you're in control of your moves," he assured her.

True or not, that didn't make her any less easy. What if she were to start practicing with Thorin or one of the others? She did not fancy getting nicks and cuts and perhaps far worse things if she was merely going to _learn_ to use a sword.

Lessil suddenly felt very tired indeed.

* * *

They spent two weeks making their way toward the Misty Mountains on foot. It was good time according to Balin even if the others were beginning to wish for the ponies again as well.

Lessil eventually did grow used to the hiking and still no blisters caught on her feet. Even the ache began to fade. Thorin continued teaching her movements for longer periods of time as her body became more used to the trek as well as balanced moves. Again, she held her tongue over any complaints, though Thorin hardly noticed. At first she couldn't help but think that he was waiting for her to slip up, but he never goaded her, nor did he outwardly notice if she merely took orders.

But she intended to keep her word that she could do this and that she would show him. Every once in a while, she would ask him little questions, like when he first began using a blade, and how many different weapons did he know how to wield, and did he teach Fili and Kili swordplay as well.

The answers to those questions were always short. "Twenty-five years, once dwarves begin reaching maturity." "Sword, ax, and bow." "Yes."

Even when he was correcting her, his words were short. Though he was never rude. "Don't soften your blows," he told her. "Bring your blade down hard and swift."

With that, she had a hard time. She wanted to match the very point Thorin did. The way he moved Orcrist was was so fluid and elegant and she was positively sloppy in comparison. "But what if I swing too far?" she asked.

Thorin let out a small sigh. He moved slightly behind her and held her sword hand in his. "You will become familiar with the movement over time," he explained, "once you get the movement right." He lifted her hand and swung the blade down. It stopped sharply, just as he did with his blade. Lessil tried it, his hand still on hers. The first couple times were still soft in comparison and he helped guide the move again. After the tenth time, Lessil started to get the hang of it.

Thorin let go of her hand. "We're done for today." With that, he left.

Lessil watched after him. They'd barely practiced an hour. Yesterday, they'd gone over an hour and forty minutes. Did she upset him?

Being closer to the mountains, the air grew colder, especially during the evenings. Most mornings Lessil lamented leaving her bedroll in the mornings. She wore her warm cloak to bed and draped her other one over her, and even then she was still cold. Once she got moving, it was better, but that first half hour was miserable.

Despite returning to their camp sweating, Lessil still sat herself close to the fire. She never got to warm to need to move away and nearly moaned in displeasure each time to fire was stoked low for the night. It didn't seem to matter much to the dwarves as they draped their wool blankets over themselves and lay down to sleep in any position most comfortable to them. Lessil had to curl on her side and into a ball, but she was still cold. She was smart enough to bring gloves to keep her hands warm during the night as they pillowed her head, but most nights she had a fitful and shivering slumber.

After another shiver, a hand pressed gently at her shoulder. "Too cold to sleep?" It was Kili. She'd taken a spot next to him and Fili to lay her bedroll as she usually did.

"Yes," she answered. She'd been trying for the last forty-five minutes. The last month of their travels she had gotten used to sleeping on the ground, but the cold as another thing entirely. It didn't allow her to get comfortable enough for sleep.

"Fairies must not be as hardy as dwarves," Kili muttered lightly.

"I'm only half-fairy," Lessil replied. And she wasn't sure whether fairies were more resilient to the elements than men. She never asked Wisty about it and the climate of Nengalad was relatively mild.

"Well, we can't have you freezing and losing any sleep," Kili continued. Lessil felt him move closer to her and gently press at her back. She tensed.

"Does this bother you?" he asked.

"A little," she answered truthfully. The only male she'd lain so close to was her father and that was when she was a girl. Lessil couldn't deny that it did feel slightly awkward and it may even keep her from sleeping anyway. But Kili's warmth against her back did feel slightly better. "but thank you. I appreciate it." If it proved too awkward, she could always tell him.

He remained gently pressed at her back with his arm thankfully placed over hers instead of around her waist. Surprisingly with her back warm, Lessil did begin to relax. But one thought did pop in her head. Kili had been giving her a bit of special attention since he showed up at her doorstep. He'd been a perfect gentleman - well, gentle_dwarf_ \- the whole time and while this move was still a bit modest, would the others see it as improper? Lessil had never been courted in any way, not even in Nengalad, and she was not quite sure what to think on the matter.

Did Kili wish to court her? What counted as courting? Did travel hinder such things? And what did she think of it? Kili was a great companion and was the first to befriend her along with his brother. He showed her courtesy and kindness like with this.

Or perhaps Lessil was thinking too hard and Kili was indeed just showing simple kindness. She shook out of her thoughts and allowed herself to doze.

* * *

The next day, when they settled their camp, Lessil was worried when Thorin didn't lead her to practice again. They stood at the foot of the mountain and thankfully a stream was nearby. It was the perfect place for her to practice since she could more than get her fill of water.

She'd been sitting near the fire Gloin made for twenty minutes when she realized that she was still there and not a small ways away holding Halthelas. She looked around to see Thorin on his own a short ways away, looking over the small stream. Lessil rose to her feet - they weren't as sore as the first days of their trek on foot - and made her way toward him.

"No training today?" she asked as she stood next to him. He sat on a small rock next to the running stream, Orcrist resting on his knees.

"Not today," he answered, not looking toward her.

Lessil knelt on the ground next to him. "Have I upset you?" she asked. Sitting on the ground, she actually had to look up at him now.

Thorin didn't answer for several moments. "I just realized how innocent you are." Not only innocent, but she was too gentle. She had spirit, yes, and was willing to wield a blade, but how she still held it with underlying uncertainty...

She quirked a brow. "Innocent?" she replied with a snicker. "I'll have you know, I'm a full grown woman. I'm more knowledgeable than you and the others think."

He fought off a chuckle at that remark. Most the company had seen how Kili had curled up behind her while sleeping. Thorin had been on watch during that time and knew the details, but the others were more inclined to tease. It was more for Kili though, as he'd eyed his fair share of elf maids - and elf males - and the others remarked at his interest in their fairy burglar. With only the slightest stumble, Kili quickly replied that Lessil had far more beauty than the too perfect elf maids, to which she had flushed so fiercely that she had to cover her face with the scarf around her neck. As the trolls had so kindly pointed out before, Lessil was in fact a maid. But that was not what Thorin was referring to.

"I know you are not a child," Thorin said. "But that does not mean you are meant to be in the wild."

She shook her head. "I think that I've handled myself well enough so far," she replied. "Remember, I faced trolls when they joked about wanting to _eat_ me. One dangled me over its mouth. And one would have eaten Bombur if I didn't say something."

"You would have had them shave us to buy more time," Thorin remarked, trying to keep the bite out of his voice. He did pretty well.

"Is it that important to you?" she asked. "It'll grow back. If it's the beard or your life, I'd think you'd choose your life."

Thorin shook his head. "You don't understand the pride behind a dwarf's beard. To shave it off is the greatest shame."

"Is that why yours is so short?"

He looked to her. Her brow knotted in curiosity as she looked up at him. Sitting with her legs out to the side as if she was wearing a dress and not trousers. She was still cold, having a hand-knitted scarf twice around her neck and gloved hands crammed in the pockets of her cloak for warmth. Gentle and innocent she may seem, but she was not naive. Keen eyes and mind she did have.

When Erebor was lost, it was indeed shame after shame after shame upon Thorin's shoulders. He'd been so young at the time, half Kili's age, and had no real beard of his own. When his people fell so low, Thorin never wished to grow one like his kinsman. He could not hold the pride of a king when he'd fallen to a mere dwarf lord. There were some who prodded Thorin about it and sometimes he had allowed it to grow out an inch or two. But as he saw more of his father and grandfather in himself, he cut it down again. He just couldn't do it. It was his shame to bear. Eventually comments were never made and Thorin stopped thinking about it.

Thorin didn't answer her, so Lessil moved on. "What can I do to make you less uneasy with this?" she asked.

"Return to Rivendell," Thorin answered. It would make him worry less. He and his dwarves didn't need to go worrying over her. She may provide just too much trouble.

But she shook her head. "Besides that."

Thorin closed his eyes with a slight sigh. Right then she reminded him of Fili and Kili. They had volunteered to join the company and nothing Thorin or his sister said could convince them otherwise. Thorin didn't like it, but at the same time Fili at least deserved to look upon the mountain that would be his kingdom and inheritance after Thorin. And Kili refused to stay behind. It was then that Thorin saw they were too much like their father. A simple miner, Vili, had the honor of a king. It was no wonder why Dis had married him. He'd died in a mining accident when Kili was but eighteen years old, still a child. Vili had died saving twenty other miners, but the honor felt cold on Thorin's shoulders as his sister's happiness was cut short and his nephews were left without a father.

Thorin had come to love those two as his own sons. If anything were to happen to the pair of them Thorin wouldn't be able to live with himself. And the fairy, this sweet and gentle fairy shouldn't have to brave the wild for a bunch of strangers. But he doubted anything he could say would make her changer her mind.

Though there is one thing he could say. "Then promise me one thing," he said.

"What's that?" she replied.

"I want you to keep out of any danger for yourself," Thorin answered. "If we're in battle, you run. Defend if you must, but get as far away as possible. And do nothing that would possibly endanger yourself, including your healing."

"But," she began protesting at the last part, "what if one of you is severely injured? It would take less time for me to heal than one of you."

Thorin shook his head. "Agree or Kili escorts you back to Rivendell."

She looked away from him and down to the stream, her lip in a slight pout. It was obvious that she didn't like that one bit. But Thorin was adamant. They were about to step into goblin territory and they were especially fond of fairy maids. Thorin had half a mind to haul her back to Rivendell himself, even if she did kick and scream the entire way. It would be a mercy compared to what fate may await her.

"Fine," she finally stated, looking back up at him. "We'll have it your way."

She ruefully conceded, but that didn't make Thorin feel much better. He watched as she lifted herself up and walked back to the camp, sitting down next to Kili. Thorin say his nephew give a gentle grin toward her and even nudge his arm against hers. Thorin narrowed his eyes slightly. Kili was an honorable dwarf and never forgot his manners and courtesy toward females, but he always did have an admiring eye. Thorin would have to speak with him later.

* * *

Lessil let out a huff as she sat on the ground. Next to her, Kili nudged her arm. "What did you talk to Uncle about?" he asked, almost suggestively.

"Nothing that would garner teasing, I assure you," she replied dryly. Before she might have flushed over what Kili tried to imply, but she was a bit too miffed for that now.

Fine, when it came to males, Lessil was nearly hopeless. Their behaviors were so foreign to her. To be in their company was like walking on egg shells. In this group, it was only more difficult. With half these dwarves, she had no idea where she stood. Fili, Kili, Bofur, and Ori liked her. Balin was kind in a sort of grandfatherly way. The others she had no idea and Thorin...she didn't even want to try figuring that out.

Kili came back with a bowl of stew and handed it to her. Lessil paused before eating any. "Why does Thorin want me to return to Rivendell?" she asked Kili.

The young dwarf swallowed his stew before answering. "That's what you were talking about?" he asked. Lessil nodded. "Perhaps because he doesn't want to see you hurt again. Dwarves are quite protective of their women-folk."

To that Lessil quirked a brow. "Oh, like how you and Fili sent me to dine with trolls?" she asked wryly.

Kili grimaced slightly. "Yeah, wasn't our best idea. You still out for revenge?"

"Forgot about it, actually," Lessil replied. "And no, I'm not really in the mood anymore." She hadn't done any pranking of the sort since they left Rivendell and she truly did forget about it.

"Well, that's a relief," Kili chuckled.

Lessil smirked. "Well, now that you mention it, I could have one or two more things up my sleeve." The two of them shared a grin at that, almost as a dare.

"Surprise me."

* * *

**I'm doing as much updating for my fics as I can before my mom and I leave for Utah on Thursday. I won't be bringing my laptop so I won't be writing until I get back. So the next update may take a while. Two weeks give or take.**

**Hope you enjoy and reviews will be loved!**


	9. Into Goblin-Town

**Damn this chapter! For as long as I've been writing it (about 100-200 words every couple days for the past two months, urgh) I've been wanting to skip it and move on. I want to continue on with this fic, but I want to be done with the first leg of The Hobbit already! My writing's been a bit thrown off as of late as well.**

**That, and I've been loaded down with projects. You should see the rug I made for my uncle on my Pinterest. (He wanted me to fill it out and make it into a blanket. I hated every minute of it. It was already perfect and fit around him despite being a big guy.) Now, I'm making a blanket for my cousin. And several of my own projects.**

**Thank you all for being so patient with me. I'm not giving up on my fics. I just feel a bit drained and blocked when it comes to writing and I have a handful of projects that take up a lot of my time.**

* * *

**~~**IX**~~**

**Into Goblin-Town**

They were making their way across the mountains now and the High Pass would become quite treacherous according to Balin and Thorin wouldn't disagree. The slopes were steep and the pathways just thick enough for one person to pass at a time. It made Thorin as well as many others in the company to stop for the night. They often kept going trying to make for an outcropping where they could settle, but once they had no choice to stop on the narrow pathway to sleep as it went on for longer than they dared to walk in the dark.

On the third day, it was pouring down rain and they were still on the narrow path. Their cloaks did little to keep them dry or warm as the wind howled and bit at them with a fierce desire. They hadn't traveled far, Thorin could tell, due to the horrid weather and most the company were in a foul mood. It would be useless to try continuing on further. There was still a small amount of light through the thick storm clouds to say that the sun was going to start setting soon. They usually went for longer, but not today. Today they would rest early and wait out the storm.

"Snowy!"

"Lessil!"

Thorin turned to see that the fairy had stumbled on the ledge and was about to fall if Dwalin and Bofur had not grabbed her and pulled her back. She was the first and Thorin didn't want anyone else to risk the same. "We must find shelter," he called out to the company, hoping at least the first half of them understood him.

"Look out!" Dwalin bellowed just as a huge rock smashed into the mountain above their heads.

Lessil had enough of a shock when the stone ledge crumbled underneath her feet, causing her to nearly topple over the edge. And it wasn't getting any better with the sudden impact of a huge boulder against the mountain above their heads. The boulder broke apart, sending smaller, but still large, rocks tumbling down the mountain's chasm bellow as well as coming too close to the path they walked on. She clung to Bofur's arm and prayed that the rocks would not hit her or any of the others.

From a head of her, she heard Balin call out, "This is no thunderstorm! It's a thunder-battle! Look!"

The company looked out into the storm to witness a piece of the mountain _moving._ But it wasn't the mountain. It had the slightest shape of a man's body with overly long legs, stubby arms, and a tiny torso with no hips. Its head was similar to the boulder it had in its hand.

"Well, bless me!" Bofur cried. "The legends are true! Giants! Stone giants!"

While Bofur looked amazed, Lessil clung to his arm in terror. What was it going to do with that boulder? She doubted it was redecorating. They company all watched as it rocked its arm back and released to the boulder, but relief flooded them as if missed them, and the path they stood on, completely. They all turned to see the boulder strike...another stone giant. The second giant slammed into the mountain, causing it to tremble as well as break off several rocks that rained down over the company's heads.

"Take cover, you fool!" Thorin roared to Bofur who stood still admiring the stone giants. Facsinating they may be, but now they were dangerous. Fili and Dwalin shoved him back against the mountainside as rocks fell far too close to the ledge, making it crumble slightly.

Lessil knelt down on the ledge, feeling the wind push against her when she stood, but she panicked when she saw the ledge beginning to crumble by her feet. She shot straight up, clinging to Dwalin's arm as hard as she possibly could. Why did they have to take this path?

Suddenly, there was a shudder from under her feet and the mountain they stood on started _shifting_. What in the world was happening? Lessil looked up and saw another stone giant rising up on its feet as if it were previously sitting on a chair. And they were stading on it!

But before the giant could fully rise, the other head-butted it and Lessil felt her bones rattle with the impact as it sent the giant they were standing on to sway dangerously on its feet.

Thorin kept his footing as the mountain, or giant, they stood on, stumbled heavily, and was ever so slightly thankful when it hammered against another mountain ridge. He cried out for the dwarves to leap over to the ridge before they lost the chance. Turning back, he noticed that only half the company were standing on the mountain ridge. He looked back to the stone giant they stood upon and saw that the rest of them were on the other leg.

If Lessil had anything in her stomach, it would have been gone as she clung to Bofur as the mountain on which she stood moved. She'd never heard of these Stone Giants as Bofur called them, and the idea of a moving mountain did not suit her tastes. Expecially since she was standing on one.

Now the giant swayed dangerously. It swung past the motionless mountain where Thorin and the others stood and slowed to a slight stop in front of a small plateau on the mountain. They then began leaning forward, about to crash into it.

Thorin watched in horror as the leg crashed into the moutain. Fili was on there. His eldest nephew was crushed on a mountain side. "Noooo!" he roared in anguish as he felt the rocks smash. He couldn't lose his nephew as well as half his company in one blow. He raced as quickly as he could to where they all crashed and thankfully saw all of them littered on a small plateau on the side of the mountain. All of them were moving.

"They're alright!" he heard Gloin shout ot the rest of them from behind him. "They're alive!"

Thorin made his way to Fili and openly embraced him, thankful that he was alive and safe.

"Where's Snowy?" he heard Bofur call from behind him. "Where is she?"

Thorin searched among the dwarves but found no sight of their fairy burglar.

Lessil was in fact, dangling over the side of the mountain, frozen in fear enough that she couldn't even cry for help. There were no footholds that she could use to push herself back up or even steady herself. And her hands were beginning to strain under the pressure of holding her weight.

Just then, the dwarves noticed where she was. But when dwalin leapt for her, her hands slipped. Before he could grab her hands, she fell with a scream, but she still managed to grab onto a hold about a yard down. Ori and Bofur leaned over and held out their hands for her to grab, but lifting out her other one, she couldn't quite reach them. And her hand wanted to give out again.

Thorin then climbed down the mountain and grabbed at her arm, hauling her up enough so that Ori and Bofur could pull her up. But his hand slipped on the wet stone just as he let go of her. Fast-acting on Dwalin's part kept Thorin from tumbling down the mountain just as the fairy would have. Dwalin quickly hauled him up and to his feet. He looked over to the fairy and saw that she clung to Bofur's arm, burying her head in her shoulder. Perhaps even weeping. Thorin shook his head. He should have sent her back to Rivendell beforehand.

"I thought we lost our burglar," Dwalin guffawed as everyone was alive and relatively safe.

Thorin merely shook his head and turned back to the rest of the company. They needed to find shelter to wait out the storm. They weren't making any progress now and it was too dangerous for them to continue on. They needed to find a cave.

Luckily Kili had been scouting out the mountain side and found one that was empty. The company quickly made their way inside. Thorin had Dwalin look through the back. He didn't trust caves in the mountains. Seldom were they unoccupied, and even as Dwalin found nothing, Thorin's hand didn't leave his blade.

The company began spreading out along the cave, trading in their soaked garments for slightly fresher ones within their packs. Gloin tossed down some of his firewood, happy to finally get some warmth. But Thorin denied him.

"No Gloin," he told the dwarf. "No fires in this place." Even if this cave was relatively empty, he wouldn't trust it. Fire may just attract unwanted attention. "Get some sleep, we leave at first light."

"We were to wait in the mountains until Gandalf joined us," Balin asserted. "That was the plan." Yes, that was the agreement when Gandalf told them that he would remain in Rivendell for a few days longer. But-

"Plans change," Thorin told him. They had a deadline. They needed to make it to the mountain by Durin's Day or all the traveling would be for nothing. They couldn't wait for an idling wizard.

* * *

Lessil couldn't sleep. This day of travel had been hard. Traveling in the mountains was perilous. She didn't know how the dwarves could do it. Perhaps that was her being less hardy than them. While the dwarves looked weather-beaten and slightly weary, none of them were worse for wear. Though when Thorin denied a fire, most, if not all, the dwarves moaned about that. But one look from their leader shut them up.

But Lessil didn't have the nerve to even think of complaining. She'd almost fallen off the side of the mountain. That had been too frightening for words. Holding on to the edge for life that she couldn't even cry for help, lest her grip somehow fail. But she'd been pulled back by Thorin. She was alive.

But she could still feel the fear from dangling thousands of feet from the ground. She just couldn't quite shake the feeling. With one more roll on her damp blanket, Lessil rose to her feet and went to Bofur who sat on watch.

"You should be sleeping," he said as she sat down next to him.

"I can't, I was so scared. I still am," she whimpered.

"Ah lass," Bofur crooned, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressed her head on his own. "You're fine now. It's alright."

Lessil let herself meld into her friend, smelling the pipeweed on his coat. "Am I in over my head?" she asked. "Thorin wanted me to stay in Rivendell and that I'm too innocent for the wild. I'm starting to think he's right. I don't belong out here. I should have stayed home."

"Where's the adventure in that?"

Lessil looked up to Bofur, her brow knotting. "What do you mean by that?" she asked tentatively.

Bofur shrugged lightly, a thoughtful look on his face. "I was born and raised in the Blue Mountains and have never left in all my years," he started. "Granted I'm not the eldest dwarf here, but I have quite a few years over the younger lads. I just thought that...I don't want the Blue Mountains to be the only place I'll ever see."

Lessil though over his words. They did sound very Bofur, but... "I didn't tag along for the adventure, Bofur."

"Then why did you join us?"

Unlike Thorin, there was just pure curiosity in Bofur's tone. So Lessil answered honestly. "As a healer, I help people. It's just what I do," she said. "You want to reclaim your home and I can maybe assist in that. But...this _adventure,_ as you call it, I don't think it's for me. I'm too gentle."

At that Bofur chuckled. Lessil turned a slight glare at him. "What's so funny?"

With a grin, Bofur replied, "With how you pelted the lads with stones, you aren't as gentle as you may think."

Lessil shook her head. "I was beyond angry at those two for talking me into foolishly approaching trolls."

"Then don't get scared, get angry and you'll be fine, lass," Bofur remarked.

Lessil bit her lip to keep from choking out laughing, but it only caused her to snort instead. She leaned her head back on Bofur's arm, suddenly tired. "Thanks Bofur. You know how to cheer anyone up."

Bofur patted her shoulder. "Now get some rest, lass. You'll need it."

Lessil nodded sleepily, but something on the ground caught her attention. The dirt began shifting into crooked lines, as if it was sinking somewhere. Before she could figure out just what it was, the floor beneath them fell open and the whole company tumbled down. The fourteen of them tumbled against walls and each other before landing in a heap at some sort of bottom. Bombur had the misfortune of falling at the very top, crushing them even further. Lessil had hit her head on something hard and she still saw black spots in front of her vision.

Immediately, goblins were upon them, poking and prodding and yanking them to their feet. They were shoved down a narrow passageway, surrounded by shrieking goblins.

"Look, it's a fairy maid!" one of them screeched in delight as it grabbed Lessil. More goblins pounced on her, poking and pinching in more private places. Lessil flinched away from them, but there was nowhere she could go.

From behind her, she heard a few of the dwarves shout for her and even reach to pull her back, but the goblins kept her out of reach. They hauled her to the front of the line, half-dragging, half-carrying her to wherever they planned to take the company.

Lessil wasn't naive. She knew of what goblins did to womenfolk. She did not want that to happen to her. She struggled against her captors, yanking her arms and legs away from the goblins. It was always in vain, but she continued it anyway. It didn't matter that they sunk their nails into her skin as well as smacked her around, she kept at it until she was brought in front of the biggest, ugliest goblin she'd ever seen. Most likely the Goblin King. He was exceptionally pale from living in a mountain, but it was more than made up for with the dirt caked within the crevices of his skin as well as thick, angry boils. To Lessil, the smell as almost as bad as troll. She felt all the fight in her leave.

The goblins carrying her threw her to the ground on her hands and knees, keeping a firm grip on her arms to keep her from moving. She could hear the rest of the company being shoved up behind her. The goblins relived them of their weapons and piled them in a heap between the company and the Goblin King. Lessil's own blade was in the hands of one of the goblins who'd been man-handling her.

At the foot of the throne where the Goblin King sat, about half a dozen goblins knelt down in front of it, which the Goblin King used as a footstool. Lessil cringed at the thought of its great weight on their backs.

"Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom?" the Goblin King demanded. "Spies? Theives? Assassins?"

"Dwarves, your malevolence," one of the goblins answered. "And a fairy maid."

The Goblin King looked down at Lessil, a grin growing on his face. Lessil herself flinched and looked away. "Well, well, well, a fairy maid?" He sniffed the air around her. "Yes, I know that smell. Inticing. As well as a surprise when traveling with a company of males."

Lessil didn't make a reply. She was frozen in spot. How where they going to get out of this? What was going to happen to them? Why couldn't Gandalf had come with them?

"Tell me, what is a group of dwarves and a fairy maid doing in these parts?" the Goblin King asked them. There was silence as the goblins awaited answers but none of the dwarves spoke up. The Goblin King then turned his attention to Lessil. He pinched her chin between his meaty fingers and yanked her head up to face him. Lessil kept her eyes clenched shut and whimpered. "Will you answer me, little fairy maid?" he crooned. "Or do I have to beat it out of you? You don't look very hard to break. Most fairies aren't nowadays. Bring out the nine-tails!"

"Wait!"

Thorin couldn't just stand by and watch their fairy be assulted by goblins. He was taught better. He should have had her sent back to Rivendell, but it was too late for that. She wasn't a fighter, but Thorin wasn't going to hold that against her now.

The Goblin King's attention turned to him now. "Well, well, well, look who it is," he thundered, rising to his full height. "Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. King Under the Mountain." He finished with an over flourished bow. A complete mockery. "Oh, but I'm forgetting, you don't have a mountain, and you're not a king. So that makes you...nobody really."

Thorin kept silent as the Goblin King spoke. There was nothing beneficial to say. He stole a quick glance at the fairy who still knelt on the ground, her head down and shoulders trembling. She didn't need any goblins to hold her down. She was too frightened. He now truly regretted bringing her along. She should be at home where she was safe. Not in a goblin infested mountain awaiting her death.

The Goblin King noted his glance. His head turned from Thorin to the fairy maid, a crooked grin settling on his features. "Well now, who is this beautiful creature to you, Thorin Oakenshield?" he inquired, bringing a hand back to the fairy, gently stroking her cheek. She flinched away from him. "Is she to be your bride?"

He waited for a reply but Thorin didn't give one. He couldn't give the Goblin King anything he could use.

He waited a few moments longer but continued on. "I'm not getting many answers from you, am I?" he mused. "Well, perhaps a message might loosen your tongue. I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. What does that make you think?" This time he didn't pause for a reply. "Of course, just a head. Your body doesn't have to be attatched."

Thorin schooled his features into neutrality. An idle threat wasn't going to shake him. He'd dealt with worse.

The Goblin King continued on, enjoying the idea of keeping the little dwarf on his toes. He wouldn't be so calm for long. "Perhaps you know of whom I speak. A pale orc, astride a white warg."

That got a reaction out of Thorin. His blood chilled and his face went pale. There was no way the orc had survived his injuries in foul conditions they laid themselves in. "Azog the Deflier was slain in battle long ago!" Thorin growled.

The Goblin King chuckled. "So, you think his defiling days are done?" He shook his head bemusedly and turned to a small goblin messenger. "Send a message to the pale orc," he demanded. "Tell him I've found his prize." The goblin sped away on its cart, chuckling all the way.

The Goblin King then ordered to his subjects. "Bring up the Mangler! Bring the Bone-Breaker!"

Thorin used the slight distraction of attention and made his way to Lessil. He gently placed his hands on her shuddering shoulders. She tried to flinch away from him too, but he held firm. "Listen to me," he whispered in her ear. "By my life, I will not let them hurt you, but you have to pull yourself together. Do you hear me? Keeping your head is half the battle of being a warrior. Understand?"

Her eyes were still clamped shut, but she took in a deeper, more steady breath and exhaled. Her shoulders relaxed slightly under his hands.

Thorin kept his hands on her shoulders, hoping at least to be a soothing presence before whatever the Goblin King hand in store for them.

The Goblin King began a chanting song as apparently whatever torture device he was bring out was arriving.

"_Bones will be shattered, necks will be wrung!_

_ You'll be beaten and battered, from racks you'll be hung!_

_ You will die down here and never be found!_

_ Down in the deep of Goblin-town!"_

The rest of the goblins were looking through the weaponry. One of the goblins shrieked as it began to unsheathe Orcirst. It tossed the blade to the floor as if it burned it.

Even the Goblin King cowered at the sight. "I know that sword!" he moaned in terror. "It's the Goblin-Cleaver, the Biter! The blade that slashed a thousand necks!"

In anger as well as terror, the goblins began attacking the company in earnest. It was not only the sword that seemed to have them in panic, but the wielder as well. He was the other half of the danger. And it seemed that Thorin was that other half, being the leader. The goblins threw themselves at him, tossing him to the ground, beating and whipping him. They held him to the ground and one clamored above him, holding a filthy dagger over his neck, ready to plunge.

"No, Thorin!" Lessil shrieked, goblins holding her down as well.

"Slash them! Beat them! Peel Them!" the Goblin King ordered.

A sudden flash of light and strong winds hurdled the goblins off the attack, piling dwarf and goblin alike in a big disoriented heap. When it settled, a lone figure stood on it feet. The silhouette of a pointed hat and carrying a staff as well as a blade came into the regaining light.

Gandalf.

"Take up arms," he began. "Fight. Fight!"

Thorin wasted no time. He lunged to his feet and made for his blade. He found Lessil's as well. He grabbed them both and went to her, hauling to her feet and thrusting the blade into her hand. He held onto her other.

"By my life," he told her, referring back to his words minutes earlier. "Keep your head." Still frightened, she nodded her head.

Now it was time to run.

* * *

**Again, I'm sorry for taking so long on this chapter. I'm ending it here because I really just want to have it posted. I've been working on this chapter for too long and hopefully I'll get back into a real swing of things come next chapter. I think I'll feel more inclined when we're at the second leg of this story. **


	10. To the Edge

**I know what you guys must be thinking. "About flipping time!" Yeah, I've finally updated and in the next chapter we'll be tying up loose ends of the first leg and getting into part two. Love you guys for being so patient with me!**

**And wow, if I know Florence + the Machine would get me through the last leg of this chapter, I would have bought the album sooner. I'm on my third playthrough of Ceremonials.**

* * *

**~~**X**~~**

**To the Edge**

The company spurred into action at Gandalf's command. Being nearest to the pile of weapons, Bombur picked them up and tossed them over his head. The others caught them in immediately began hacking at the goblins. Sometimes it was the momentum of Bombur's throw that bonked the heads of the goblins as the dwarf caught it, which worked perfectly fine.

If anyone were to doubt the fighting spirit of Durin's folk, there was no doubt now. It didn't matter where they were descended, for even Bombur, Bofur, and Bifur fought like one-dwarf-armies against the horde of goblins.

And Thorin, who had one hand latched onto Lessil's wrist, fought back any goblin that stepped in front of him. It didn't matter that he had only one available hand, that was all he needed. Most goblins were in fact afraid of his blade, shirking from it as it came toward them. They hesitated, and it cost them their lives.

Even the Goblin-King was afraid of his blade, as well as Gandalf's. He recognized it as he huddled on his throne. "He wields the Foe-Hammer. The Beater. Bright as daylight."

But he didn't stay down for long. He swallowed his fear and raised his club toward Thorin. Lessil shrieked his name and he turned to give a powerful swing to the Goblin-King's arm, knocking his blow back and sending him toppling off the edge of the platform.

When most, if not all, the goblins had been dealt with, Gandalf called out to the company to follow him. They wasted no time in running after the wizard as he shouted the word. Even Lessil as she clutched Thorin's hand in an iron grip. They ran in the clear for several heartbeats before goblins sprang out in their paths. Any goblins who charged at the from the front were taken care of by Gandalf, but some could manage to slip past him. The one that did, Thorin hacked its head off before it took another step.

But sometimes the goblins jumped from above and onto the narrow wooden bridge they ran upon. While Thorin was dealing with it, another came at Lessil. With a shriek, she swatted her sword at it, forcing it to lose its footing and tumble off the path.

It was only afterwards that Lessil saw her blade was still in its sheath. A hand grabbed hers and tugged her onward. It was Fili. "Swords work better if they're out of the sheath, Snowy," he said. She didn't have the nerve to reply.

They quickly came to the end of the path where they had a small jump down. The others were already down here, coming up to meet them. Lessil didn't even realize they'd been split up. Fili pulled her to pace with him and they jumped together, the dwarf pulling her along as her legs shook off the light impact. She barely paid any attention as the others cut the ropes to a bridge that stopped goblins from swinging onto their path. But she did take note when they were on another bridge that was cut off from the other side, cornering them from the goblins. It swung toward the path and allowed some of the company to leap to the other side, but it twisted and swung back toward the goblins. Lessil and Fili were going to be right in front of them, but he and the other dwarves pushed her back toward the other edge and be the first to jump off. She landed on her knees, but Bifur was quick to haul her back to her feet.

Somewhere down the line, Gandalf had blasted down a large boulder that the dwarves send tumbling down on the coming goblin hoard, smashing them dead or knocking them off the side of the path. They quickly made the sharp corner and down pathway after pathway. Lessil wondered just how long they were going to have to run in order to leave this place. How big was this goblin city? How many pathways did they have to take? How many goblins would they have to fight through? How long would they be able to race through them before they were truly cornered?

As if to answer her question, the Goblin-King burst through the bridge they were to make their way across, cutting off their escape. The goblins caught up to them from behind and boxed them in on the small bridge.

Lessil found herself yanked behind Thorin who pointed his sword toward any goblin daring enough to come closer.

"You thought you could escape me?!" Lessil heard the Goblin-King exclaim from behind her and turned to see him swipe at the wizard with his club, knocking him backwards. Ori and Nori caught Gandalf before he lost his footing.

"What are you going to do now, wizard?" the Goblin-King sneered.

Gandalf replied by hauling to his feet and jabbing his staff into the great goblin's eye and slashing him across the belly.

The Goblin-King let out a howl, a hand to his left eye and the other over his belly. He fell to his knees. "That'll do it," he sounded reluctantly.

Gandalf then slashed the goblin's throat, effectively killing him. With a great thud, the Goblin-King collapsed on the bridge, causing it to shudder. The bridge began to quake and crack at the weight it couldn't quite hold until, with a loud snap, it slid off the stone walls and down the chasm.

Lessil fell to the ground, a hard weight half on top of her as the bridge fell beneath them. It slid on the stone wall again, crashing against a wall opposite where it caught between them, slowing their fall if only slightly to eventually pound against the ground. The boards began leaning to the side, causing Lessil to roll off onto rock, wood, dust and other debris. The weight that on top of her was now underneath her. She knew she needed to move, but her body wasn't working. Heartbeats later, her body was rolled to the side and she was able to cough out the dust in her lungs as well as actually breathe. A hand gently rubbed her back before taking her under the arms and lifting her to her feet.

"Well, that could have been worse," Bofur announced, surprisingly optimistic over this entire chase. But just as he finished talking, the Goblin-King's body came crashing down, crushing most of the company underneath.

Lessil flinched hard at the impact. Even though she didn't feel the weight at all, she heard the impact and it sounded heavy. Painful too.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" Dwalin growled at Bofur's gall.

Thorin was more than thankful that they all managed to survive that fall. All of them. They left the horde of goblins behind, only followed by the Goblin-King who was now a corpse piled on top of them. And Lessil was safe, standing right next to him, winded, but unscathed. She knew how to keep her head when need called for it. She'd swiped at a goblin with her sheathed sword. Not very thought out, but at least she used it.

He moved to Dwalin and Kili, holding a hand out to haul them out from the wreckage. Kili's face turned to slight horror as he looked over Thorin's shoulder. "They're coming!"

Thorin whipped his head around to see the mass of goblins crawling down the stone wall, straight for them. He shoved his nephew to his feet and turned to the rest of the company. "Run!"

"Where?" he heard Bofur call.

"There's only one thing that will save us now," he heard Gandalf shout. "Daylight!"

Thorin made sure to see every one of his dwarves on their feet before making his way toward Lessil, grabbing her hand and pulling her along. She followed him on slower, but longer legs. They ran with the screeching of goblins at their heels when they saw a peak of sunlight in their vision. They were nearing outside.

Thorin turned the corner to see the cave opening into the mountainside. Ahead of him, Gandalf swept to the side, making sure that ll the dwarves would make it out. An aggravating wizard he may be, but Thorin admitted that he was exceptionally dependable as an ally. He raced outside, feeling the warmth of the sun kiss his face and hearing the sigh of relief from the fairy behind him. He didn't stop running until the could barely see the tip of the mountainside. He turned and watched as the rest of his company slowly came to a stop at the random clearing he chose. Many of them fell to their bums, panting and thankful for their lives. Thorin and Gandalf both counted them as they passed, mumbling names and numbers. All were accounted for, even the delicate little fairy in their midst.

"Well, you're all in one piece," Gandalf voiced Thorin's thoughts. They both gave a look to Lessil, thankful she made it out alright. She seemed to feel fortunate enough to be alive that she didn't react to it.

"That's nice and all," they all heard Bombur say. "But I'm starving. Have we anything to eat?"

Many of the dwarves groaned. Of course Bombur would firstly think of his stomach. Their supplies were hardly the first thing of interest that they planned to take from the mountain. None of them even knew where their bags were when Gandalf had come.

"Well, that is a good point," Nori said. "We have nothing to eat and it's long past breakfast."

They all looked up to the sun and found that it was a few hours past noon. They'd been in the goblin city for about half a day.

"Kili, do you have your bow?" Thorin asked. "Can you hunt?"

"I don't," the young dwarf answered.

More groans came from the company. Even from Lessil, who dropped her hands against her sides. She felt something at her hip, in the pocket of her cloak. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a roll of twine that she used to make her snares. She often kept it in her pockets as it helped lull her to sleep by running her fingers along it. "I can."

The company all looked to her and she held out the twine. "How many of you know how to make a snare?" she asked. Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur raised their hands. "Come with me."

* * *

A couple hours later, the company had moved farther down the mountain to make a small camp to rest while breakfast or brunch or even lunch was being caught. There had been just enough twine for a dozen snares and some time later, handfuls of rabbits and squirrels were brought to camp. Spits were soon risen and plainly cooked animals were made into meals. It wasn't comparable to the stews Bombur made before, but it was food and none complained.

"I didn't know you could set a snare, Snowy," Kili commented as he dug into his rabbit.

Lessil almost wanted to tease at how something as small as that could seem surprising. "My dad taught me how. My sister was the huntress, but he wanted to make sure that I could get my own food. All the food I served in my home was grown and caught be me. Even the fish. It seems to be a useful skill right now."

Kili nodded. "Well, I guess we were wrong about you surviving in the wild. You're not completely helpless." He held up the berries before popping them into his mouth.

While waiting for the snares to ready, she paced a ways away to collect edible berries. It only took one look for her to decipher them, even though it was a trial to find a good sized bush on the side of the mountain. There were a abundance of trees, but little foliage. Thorin had followed her out, insisting that none of them should be alone, and they both filled their pockets with as many berries as they could fit. They were quiet as they worked and silently returned to the camp, handing out the berries to curb the company over until the real meal arrived.

Now they all ate their meal in relative silence. Only one apiece, which of course Bombur fussed over. But he was quickly hushed by the others who called him greedy. Lessil subtly handed him a big piece of the squirrel in her hands. The berries and a few bites of meat were enough for her. The others probably didn't want to indulge him, but hearing his stomach give a rumble she couldn't stop herself.

The company sat in relative silence throughout the meal before the question was raised of what their next move was. Seeing as they had no supplies and little means to feed themselves - most of Lessil's twine wasn't reusable, only five of the snares could be used again - and no settlements were to be found in the region.

Gandalf came up with the first solution. "Our first order of business is to get off this mountain. The sun won't shine forever and this mountain will be swarmed by goblins by nightfall."

"Or other filth," Thorin muttered.

Gandalf looked quizzcally to the dwarf lord, "What do you mean?"

Thorin let out a heavy breath before answering. "You know I'm being hunted, Gandalf. You showed it to me yourself. And I may have gotten news that the Pale Orc is one of them."

Lessil's gaze flitted from Thorin to Gandalf. One mixed between hatred and disgust and one...of resolve. She vaguely remembered Balin speaking of this Pale Orc at the beginning of the journey that seemed a lifetime ago. What were they going to do now then?

That was answered for them as a howl sounded in the distance, accompanied by a few more. It was the sound of wargs on the hunt. The company leapt from their seats on the dirt or over-turned logs, looking toward the sound of the howling.

"Out of the frying-pan," Thorin mumbled.

"And into the fire," Gandalf finished. "Run!"

They didn't need telling twice. They all turned and ran with the wolves literally at their heels. Lessil felt her hand tugged by Thorin and didn't hesitate to follow Despite having shorter legs than her, Lessil stumbled trying to keep up with him just as she did inside the mountain. The growling of wargs came closer and closer and Lessil could hear the faintest hint of rustling grass under footsteps. They would never outrun wargs.

A loud bark came too close for Lessil's comfort and she was nearly pushed to her knees by Thorin as a warg leaped over their heads. It pivoted where it landed and snarled at them, sizing up its prey. Thorin stepped in front of her just as the warg charged, impaling it right in the temple. Thorin was pushed right back into her, knocking them both off their feet. Not only did Lessil have a dwarf's weight on her legs, but a warg's as well. For a moment she forgot she even had legs. Thorin made quick work to push the warg of them and pulled Lessil back to her feet as well as retrieving his blade from the warg's skull, taking her hand in his free one and continue running.

Unfortunately, they had nowhere else to run as the company reached a plateau with a sheer drop over a mile high. Lessil heard Gandalf order them all up into the trees and Thorin pushed her in front of the nearest one and told her to climb. Lessil made a small leap to reach the first branch and pulled one leg over it to hoist herself higher and she didn't stop there. She climbed at least three more branches until the one above her head seemed to skinny to hold her weight. Thorin had climbed to the branch just across from hers. The wargs began to jump at the trees, leaping as high as they could and snapping their jaws at the company. But they had all climbed to high for them to reach and the wargs could not climb a tree. They were safe for now, in the lightest of terms.

But what happened now? They couldn't stay here. And there was nowhere else to run. Thorin must have seen her panicked expression as his hand covered hers against the tree trunk. He didn't give any encouraging words, or even a look, but Lessil took her own anyway. Perhaps they would grow tired of prey that they could not reach and eventually leave. That was their only choice at the moment.

The wargs' attention turned from the company in the tree to what seemed to be the rest of their party behind them. Lessil pushed down the pine branch in front of her to see a gleam of white. It was a pale white warg and on top of it sat a large orc with scars littering his white skin. From beside her, she heard Thorin gasp.

"Azog!"

Lessil's eyes widened as she took in the main horror of Balin's tale of Moria. This was the creature that slayed Thorin's grandfather and led the army against the dwarves' ancient home. She saw him stroke his wargs' fur with some sort of pitchfork that was stabbed down the rest of his forearm. The sight made her feel sick. She heard him speak in his foul language, his gaze shifted hungrily at the company of dwarves. The only words she was able to make out was Thorin's name and that of his father. Thorin merely stared at the orc in disbelief, slowly shaking his head as if his eyes were deceiving him. If it would have helped, Lessil would have pinched him.

Azog pointed his mace toward Thorin and let out more words Lessil didn't understand. The wargs turned back to the trees and began leaping up at them, tearing at the lower branches with their teeth, about two or three wargs per tree. Lessil wound her arms around the tree trunk as it shook from impact. One even got dangerously close to her feet, managing to kick off the lowest branch and grab onto a higher one. It was about a foot from Lessil's feet, but the branch gave out under its weight and it dropped back to its feet.

Soon, the trees couldn't handle the pounding as it began to tilt backwards under the warg that last jumped against it. Lessil bit her lip against the scream that threatened to come out as the tree fell and fell. If she hit the ground, she was dead.

"Get ready to jump!" she heard Thorin yell.

Lessil turned to the tree behind her as it began to fall as well. She had to wait for the one after it and jump onto the cloest branch. But even that tree began to fall. She quickly pulled her feet onto the branch and quickly leapt to the next tree. The whole company was on a single tree that overlooked the entire plummet of the cliff. Lessil had no choice but to look down as she clutched onto the branch that pressed into her stomach. Slowly, she lowered her feet until they made contact with the lower branch and she settled herself there, looking back at the wargs who against paused in their attacking. They had to be careful lest they take their own tumble off the cliff.

Suddenly, a ball of fire rained down at the wargs. Startled, they leapt away as it caught on the dry grass. Lessil looked up to see Gandalf alighting pine cones. He tossed one down to Fili who stood across from her and Lessil grabbed one of her own. She pressed it against his and gently blew on it to make the flame grow. When it sparked large enough, Lessil and Fili both tossed their pine cones at the wargs. More flaming pine cones dropped to Kili, Balin, and Dori who also threw them until a small wildfire separated their tree from the wargs. One of the wargs actually caught on fire and ran off.

The company roared with cheers as the wargs ran away, scared of the fire. But the celebration was short-lived as the tree began to shudder and sway. Slowly, it began to tumble down just as the other trees had. But it stopped at a slight angle instead of toppling right over. Lessil was back to her position of clinging to the branch, trying not to scream. What were they going to do now? Fall to their deaths or be mauled by wargs? There was no good option. They were as good as dead.

As her feet dangled precariously over air, Lessil thought of her sister and the tales she'd tell of her roaming. They all seemed to grand and even slightly fun. Did she ever run into messes like this? Had there been times where her life was actually in danger? If Lessil, by some miracle, survived this then the next time Wisty returned home, she would never let her leave again. If she returned home. Please let her return home!

A foot stepped in front of her eyes and Lessil looked up to see Thorin with his blade in hand. He looked right for Azog and slowly made his way down the tree and right for his enemy. He lifted his arm with his signature oaken branch and began charging for the pale orc as he stepped off the tree. Azog grinned at the dwarf lord's approach and his warg leapt at him as Thorin came close enough. Thorin was knocked right to the ground without even making a hit. Azog turned around and just as Thorin lifted himself to his feet, Azog swung his mace right at his face, knocking him onto his back. Next the warg bit into Thorin's arm, causing the dwarf to roar in pain.

To Lessil, it wasn't some valiant challenge of two opponents. It was a death march from a dwarf who wanted to die fighting. Azog wasn't fighting him he was playing with him. What did Thorin hope to achieve? To die in a scuffle? No, he couldn't die like that. Not in front of his nephews and dwarfs who loved him. They needed him. He was too important.

On her feet on the tree trunk, Lessil pulled her sword from its scabbard as she watched Thorin be tossed by the pale orc's warg. Another orc slowly made his way toward Thorin and Lessil felt her feet move before even telling herself to. She moved faster as the orc situated his blade against Thorin's neck. Just as the blade was raised, Lessil slammed into the orc before the blade could fall. Like a light-weight, she was tossed off the orc but before he could swipe at her, Lessil stabbed at the orc's shoulder, causing it to scream and fall backwards. She moved over it and stabbed right down into the orc's chest, killing it quickly.

Not even waiting for it to collapse dead, Lessil moved in front of Thorin, blocking the pale orc's path with her body. The basic details of her sword training leaked into her head despite her panic. Her knees slightly bent and feet braced to the ground. She held her blade in a more defensive position in case one of the other orcs wanted to take a swing at her. Three orcs astride wargs prowled toward her.

But just as they made three steps, half the company intercepted the wargs, slashing against the warg's maws and stabbing at the orc riders. Instead of running into the thick of battle, Lessil retreated to Thorin. She checked his neck for a pulse and then his mouth for breath. His breath was shallow and his nose broken and bleeding. As quickly as she could, Lessil gripped his nose and reset it. Thorin let out a groan but remained unconscious. But she didn't get the chance to assess for more damage as a growl sounded from behind her. She turned to see Azog and his warg approach her. But his attention was redirected as the warg next to him was gripped in the talons of a giant bird.

Lessil gasped at the sight of the bird - an eagle! - dropped the warg and rider off the cliff. More came and collapsed the remaining trees on the wargs and fanned the flames at them as well. Azog was engulfed in flames for a moment before racing off. Lessil turned to Thorin to see another eagle gently grasping the dwarf in its talons. Watching Thorin soar away and making sure he wasn't about to fall, Lessil re-sheathed her sword and barely had time to gasp as another eagle plucked her with a talon and dropped her off the cliff.

She let out a short scream before landing hard on a soft, feathery surface. She gripped the feathers tightly to make sure she didn't fall off before situating herself in a more comfortable position. Slowly, she eased her grip and even felt the tension on the eagle's back. She remembered her mother telling her tales of the great eagles and how they hated riders who nearly ripped their feathers off with their tight grip. The only discomfort now was the cold wind that nipped at Lessil's hands and face so she gently laid her head down on the eagle. Its feathers were quite soft and warm and a slow pulse managed to lull her to sleep.

* * *

Lessil snapped her eyes open, surprised that she managed to fall asleep so quickly after another tense situation. It was most likey that her nerves were spent.

Around her, the sun was peaking over the mountains, its warmth kissing at Lessil's cold cheeks. She craned her head to see about thirteen eagles with the company either on their backs or clutched in talons. At her side, she saw Thorin still unconscious in the eagle's talon. There was no blood dripping from his formerly broken nose at least so he wasn't bleeding out. But Lessil didn't feel at ease that he wasn't awake yet. He was too still. Was he even breathing? Was he alive? He had to be. Please, let Thorin live!

After a time that seemed to long, the eagles began gliding down to a cropping of rocks that seemed big enough to house the great eagles. There were even nests placed at certain spots.

The first eagle gently set Thorin on the rock. Lessil's eagle barely perched when she slid off and stumbled toward him. Her legs, unused to walking after such a long ride, crumpled under her as she got to Thorin's side. The scratches on his face sported dried blood as well as under his nose. Hovering a hand over his mouth, Lessil nearly sobbed in relief to feel his light breath. Cupping his face in her hands, she let her healing magic flow through him.

Lessil had healed more than a dozen broken noses in her life, it was lucky that her nose wasn't crooked. Even though she'd reset it before the flight, it still hurt and blood started running toward her lips. Not only that, but there was pain in her forearm as well as a sharp sting below just her breast. A fractured arm and two, maybe three, fractured ribs. It hurt with each breath that she could barely take in.

She breathed from her mouth as Thorin's eyes fluttered open. His hand rose to touch her cheek, a look of admonishment and relief on his face. He sat up and turned to face her.

"What do you think you were doing?" he reprimanded, taking her by the shoulders and shaking her.

Through the pain, Lessil tried not to vomit. "Ow." Thorin stopped shaking her and relaxed his grip, gently holding her shoulders. Swallowing back her pain, she looked him in the eye and grinned slightly. "I think it's too late to send me back to Rivendell."

Thorin did have half a mind to send her back to Rivendell someway, somehow. But more than that, he was amazed by her actions. She'd taken on an orc and managed to kill it. She'd saved his life. A young fairy maid saving an aged dwarf warrior. She even wore his battle scars with the barest hint of a smile on her face. And she was alive.

So glad she was alive, Thorin pulled her against him.

* * *

**Reviews will be loved!**


	11. Beorn

**Happy Belated New Years to my readers. Again, it's about time I did an update. But luckily I told myself today that I was going to work on this chapter and the latter half just spilled out. Finally!**

* * *

**~~**XI**~~**

**Beorn**

Working past the pain, Lessil felt a small comfort in Thorin's embrace. How he'd gone from dangerously still, to surprise, to anger, to relief and finally remained there as he held her against him. To see him out of pain was more than enough reward for her, and worth her own.

By then, the entirety of the company had their feet on the eagles' perch and she heard their prided cheers. Thorin released her from his hold and carefully helped her to her feet. Her ribs ached at the shift as well as from her intake of breath.

"I told you, lass, you weren't as gentle as you think," Bofur said, coming over and hauling her into his own embrace. He was a lot less gentle than Thorin was and Lessil not only flinched, but groaned at the pressure on her arm as well as her ribs.

"Oi, off you, can't you see the little lady is injured!" came Oin's voice as he shoved Bofur away. He dwarf medic gently took her injured hand from her across her stomach and gently felt the bone.

"It's only a fracture," Lessil told him. With her healer's training, she was quite perceptive of her own body and exactly what was injured. In most places at least. She'd have to check her ribs, she wasn't sure if it was two or three that were fractured. With the pain, probably three.

"I don't have any of my supplies, but we have to bind it," Oin muttered. "Let me borrow this." He didn't even ask for Bofur's permission before taking the scarf from around his neck and wrapping it around Lessil's forearm.

"Don't bind my ribs, I can barely breathe as it is," Lessil told him, a hand gently returning to her nose that gave a small ache. She glanced at Thorin, wondering if he was going to insist on any and all of Oin's care and noticed that he was gazing in wonder at something past her.

Turning, Lessil gazed over the high eyrie the company stood upon. They were high, that was for sure. Not quite as high as the Misty Mountains, but high enough to see the peak of a single mountain in the distance. Miles and miles away, yet closer than before. "Is that what I think it is?" she asked, glancing at Thorin.

Thorin nodded, but Gandalf answered her. "Erebor, the Lonely Mountain. The last great Dwarf Kingdoms of Middle Earth."

"Our home," Throin finally supplied.

* * *

That night, the company settled into a more comfortable cropping within the eyrie, guided by the eagle Gwaihir, who happened to be quite close to Gandalf. The eagles had offered them food - and to Lessil's immense relief - water. A few fires were lit with the company spread out among them, all keeping warm with the loss of their blankets. While they had managed to grab a few packs here and there while escaping the goblins, a lot of their bags had been emptied by goblin inspection. Bombur's bag of cooking supplies had been emptied of everything save for a cooking pot. It was good to have, but with little food to cook, it was only a reminder of half-fed bellies.

Lessil was lucky that most her things had remained in her bag. Kili had fished it out, though he thought he was grabbing for his own. All Lessil's elven clothing was still at the bottom, though she'd lost both her cloaks. Even with them, the nights were cold, and now she wasn't quite able to get comfortable. Her arm ached as well as her nose and her ribs made a painful twinge with each breath she took. Hopefully by tomorrow the pain would be considerably less, if not gone, so for tonight, she had to pull through it.

"I noticed something," Nori commented from across where Lessil sat. They had two fires a few yards apart with the company surrounding them like a figure eight. It left very little elbow room, but they all were willing to give up personal space for warmth on this chilly night. "Do fairy maids smell a certain way? Both the trolls and the goblins noted on your maidenhood, Snowy."

Even in the darkness, the entire company could see how red their fairy burglar had gone, her mouth open but no sound came out. She looked at Nori with a mix of shock and horror on her face. She didn't move to answer, nor did she need to as over half the company sneered at Nori's impropriety. From beside him, Dwalin actually thwacked him behind the head, muttering something about disrespecting ladies.

Lessil eventually recovered from Nori's shocking question and rose to her feet, heading over to the tiny stream of water that ran down the eyrie. Well, it was tiny to the eagles. It was about as wide as Lessil was tall. Sitting beside it, her legs out to the side of her, she curled her hand into the running water. The cool, silky water caressed her fingers and the feeling wove up her arm, soothing the slight ache of her fractured arm.

"You shouldn't be dunking your hand in cold water on a night like this."

Lessil turned to see Thorin standing a couple steps behind her. "Water's almost never too cold to me," she told him. "I mean, I can feel the coldness of it, but it doesn't make _me_ feel cold. Besides," She turned back to the stream, "every bit helps with the healing."

Thorin made no move to approve, but neither did he insist on her removing her hand. From what Lessil could tell, he seemed lost in thought. "Are you angry with me?" she found herself asking. While he didn't look like it, Thorin hardly wore his emotions on his face.

Thorin sighed before answering. "No, though I should be. You disobeyed my orders." Lessil looked away from his gaze, back to the stream. He wasn't mad, but he was disappointed. Either way, she did something wrong. But there was nothing she could do to change that now.

It was true that Thorin was irritated that the fairy burglar hadn't listened to his order, but he didn't feel it as he should have when he first gave it. He thought her weak, a tiny fairy maid who would freeze at the sight of danger and get herself killed. A damsel that would require saving. A distraction and too much trouble for her worth. In a way, she was. In front of the goblins, she'd been frozen in fear. Yet all the same, she had faced down an orc that was prepared to kill him and killed it herself. She now bore his injuries and despite the obvious pain she was in, she did not complain.

"How are you faring with you injuries?" Thorin asked.

"I might think you'd know well enough," Lessil tried to joke, but Thorin didn't respond. "It's more a bother than anything. I've gained a high tolerance for it. By tomorrow, it shouldn't bother me too much. We can travel then, if you wanted to know."

Thorin nodded, making to turn away...but he didn't move. He stood, hands behind his back, looking down at the young fairy gently rubbing her nose. By her lack of reaction, it didn't seem broken. At least anymore.

"How many injuries have you treated in you life?" Thorin found himself asking.

She turned back up to him, slight surprise in her eyes. Her eyes then shifted down, thinking back on it. "Too many to count," she replied. "I once healed a man who was mauled by a wolf." She patted her left calf. "It was horrid. Shattered the ankle. I passed out after healing it." She then sighed, rolling her ankle. Thorin could hear the faintest pop. "That was when I realized I needed someone to help _me._ I started training Margrit so that I could have someone help me through the healing process while I was in pain." Not only that, but Margrit gained a bit of a knack for it herself. With her gone, the town should be in good enough hands. Though of course, Margrit didn't have Lessil's power.

"Why did you...?" Thorin paused. _Why did you decide to be a healer? _That wasn't the right question. Being a healer was as natural to her as being half fairy. It was like asking Thorin why he was a King. They were born to be. "When did you know you were a healer?" he amended.

A slight smile graced her lips. "I was six years old," she started. "My sister and I were playing among the other kids in the village. One of them fell and skinned his knee. While my sister went to get Mother, I found myself going to the boy, holding his knee, and then suddenly I felt all the pain and my knee became bloody. I cried, more confused than anything, until Mother came to get me and explain what happened." She gave a small chuckle. "My sister and father were nearly horrified, but my mother couldn't be happier."

Thorin could imagine the negative response from her family. Taking injuries upon herself, regardless if she healed faster, was as much a burden as it was a gift. Animal bites, broken bones, sickness, and who knows what else she'd healed. It was bound to leave a scar. And since she was merely six years of age? And he called her weak. He shook his head. While she may not be physically strong, she was in no way weak.

With a sigh, he shrugged of his coat and placed it over her shoulders. Water may not be cold to her, but it was still a cold night. Her shoulders tensed and she stared, shocked at the coat before pulling it closer. Thorin even moved to sit down next to her.

"What is Erebor like?" Lessil asked. They were about halfway to the mountains. Or at the very least closer than they were before. Looking at the lone mountain in the distance, Lessil was curious to know more about it.

Searching through his few happy memories, Thorin turned to her and began describing the splendor of the greatest Dwarven home.

* * *

The company's trek down the Carrock was slow going, too slow for Thorin's taste. While the ride with the eagles gave them a long distance from Azog, he would catch up to them eventually. They hadn't had their ponies since before Rivendell and now they knew they were being hunted by not just any orc, but Azog. He wouldn't let up the chase no matter how farther ahead the company was.

It didn't help that they had no supplies, only the small amount of food leftover from the previous night. They had no way to hunt as Lessil's snaring wire was all used up. How were they to reach the mountains if they starved first?

"Gandalf," Thorin started, catching up with the wizard's pace. "Where do we go from here? We can't continue on if we have no supplies."

"I have thought of it," the wizard replied. "There is a house nearby. Somewhere we can take safe haven perhaps, and even refresh and regroup, as it were."

Thorin's brow knotted. "Who could live out here?" He knew of no kind of settlements this north between the Misty Mountains and Mirkwood.

"Neither friend or foe," Gandalf answered.

"That doesn't give any comfort," Thorin growled.

"It's not meant to," Gandalf replied, his face lightening ever so slightly as he glanced over his shoulder. "Lessil, my dear, come here. I must speak with you."

The fairy burglar jogged as quickly as she was able with cracked ribs and Gandalf gathered her under his arm. "Lessil, my dear, I will need your charming personality to appease our possible new host. I believe Beorn had a fondness for fairies...I think."

"Uhm..." Lessil stammered, "Who is this Beorn?"

"He is a skin-changer," Gandalf told her. "Living near the borders of Mirkwood."

"Skin-changer?" Lessil inquired. "You mean, like a furrier? He changes squirrel skins into rabbits before he peddles them?" That was the kind of man she was supposed to _charm?_

"Goodness no!" Gandalf replied, horrified. "And do not mention that word within the next hundred miles of his house, or anything having to do with skinning animals. Beorn is nothing of the sort and will not tolerate such things."

"Then what is a skin-changer?" Thorin asked impatiently.

"Beorn can literally change his skin," Gandalf answered. "He is sometimes a man and other times a great black bear. Some say that he is a bear descended from the great, ancient bears of the mountains. Others say that he is a man descended from the first men who lived before Smaug or the other dragons cam into this part of the world. I don't know which is true, except that is under none's will or enchantment other than his own. He lives only by his morals. He will either help us...or kill us."

"Kill us?" Lessil squeaked.

"Not to worry, my dear," Gandalf said, lifting her chin up. "I'm sure you can win him over."

"But you said he _might_ be fond of fairies," she replied, not at all at ease with the prospect of meeting this Beorn. "What if he doesn't like fairies?"

"I'm sure he'll adore you," Gandalf noted. "I hope."

"Gandalf!"

* * *

Gandalf hummed absently. "We're getting closer," he told the company. "These are the bee pastures, his dwelling is not far from here."

The night before, on nearly empty bellies, Gandalf explained Beorn to the rest of the company around the campfire. The wizard seemed less and less certain of his plans as he made it known that Beorn had no fondness for dwarves.

Lessil gazed at the drones of bees that zipped along the natural garden of flowers in...big sizes. The bees she was used to seeing were barely bigger than her finger nails. These ones were four times the size. Yes, they were merely bees, but Lessil felt a bit wary of them. How would it feel to be stung by one of them?

The dwelling came into view just beyond a dotted circle of ancient oak trees within a thick hedge that circled around it. Lessil could see a wooden door worked into it. Gandalf halted the company. "This is far enough," he said, turning to them, "It simply would not do to bother Beorn with all of us a once. He is uhm..." Gandalf's expression became wary, "easily startled."

Thorin's face soured even more. "He is neither friend nor foe, he doesn't like dwarves, and he is short-tempered. Your plan is becoming less and less favorable every time you speak of him."

"Nonsense!" Gandalf stammered. "Now, when I whistle for you, only come out in pairs, you hear?" The company nodded. "Only in pairs, and Bombur you count as one." Bombur nodded. "Come along, my dear." He pressed Lessil forward by the shoulders, either oblivious or ignoring her uncertain whine.

It was several paces before they made into the confines of Beorn's lands, though the hedge-gate surrounding the front was certainly misguiding. While this side of the land seemed to be walled against the mountains, it was hardly used to measure its vastness. Large, but still cozy lodgings were the first thing to be seen and it also made Lessil wonder how big was this Beorn fellow. She and Gandalf rounded the housings to a great open pasture that must have gone on for about a mile. Lessil was fascinated by the gentle dips of the flat, green expanse dotted by trees here and there. Several ponies could be seen running along the grass, either for the free spirit or even playing with one another. There were also some dogs and goats and sheep roaming around freely, not exactly wild, but definitely not pets either.

But the loud hacking of an axe snapped her out of her fascinated reverie. Her attention was brought to a hulking man with an axe in hand as he lifted another log onto a tree stump and chopped it as well. Lessil flinched and hid herself behind Gandalf.

Beorn was huge, probably at least seven feet tall. He stood only in breeches with long, coarse hair that seemed to spike out from his head as well as run down his spine. He had a dirty, gruffness about him that pictured him as someone who made his home in the wild. And he seemed to be chopping wood with more muscle than needed.

Gandalf paused, running his hand over his hair and clearing his throat. Since he hadn't been smoking, so that couldn't have been the reason. Bug in his throat? Wait...

"You're nervous," Lessil murmured, coming to the realization of seeing the tension on his brow.

"Nervous?" Gandalf muttered back, outraged by the thought. "Nonsense!" He turned to Beorn, his expression lightening. "Good morning!"

Beorn chopped another log, apparently not having heard the wizard. So Gandalf repeated himself. "Good morning."

Boenr paused in his work, leaning against the axe stuck on the stump. He glanced over his shoulder to reveal very thick brows and hard grey eyes.

"I'm Gandalf," the wizard replied. "Gandalf the Grey."

Beorn turned around fully, removing the axe and propping it in front of him. Peeking around Gandalf, Lessil could see a harsh, animal-like face with a stiff beard that stuck out from the sides of his chin and something of a pouty frown. The way he still held his axe didn't make Lessil as frightened as she could have been seeing as she saw Dwalin often standing the same intimidating way. Even Thorin a couple of times. Pity that Beorn didn't like dwarves, they seemed to have a bit in common just from attitude. "Never heard of him," Beorn growled to Gandalf.

"I'm a wizard," Gandalf continued. "Perhaps you've heard of my colleague, Radaghast the Brown? He resides in the southern border of Mirkwood."

"What to do want?" Beorn interrupted.

Gandaf stuttered. "To tell you the truth, we have lost much of our luggage and nearly lost our way, and are rather in need of your help, or at least a bit of advice."

"We?" Beorn rumbled. "I only see one of you."

"Yes," Gandalf said, shifting aside to reveal Lessil where she hid behind him. "This is Lessil. We have been traveling together."

Beorn knotted his brow at the sight of her, though more of curiosity than agitation like at Gandalf. "A fairy?" he mused. "You don't often leave home."

"Well, she is half-fairy," Gandalf explained.

Beorn chuckled. "Even rarer. Haven't seen one since a few years past with a golden haired lass traveling along these parts. Half-fairy."

This time it was for Lessil to show some shock. She knew exactly who Beorn was talking about, her sister. _You've been everywhere, Wisty,_ she thought.

With something of a smile on his lips, Beorn held out his hand. "Come over here, little fairy, I won't hurt you," he said.

Slowly, Lessil stepped around Gandalf and toward Beorn. The great man kept his hand outstretched and watched as she came closer. Tentatively, Lessil reached out and placed her hand in his. His fingers alone were able to swallow up her hand as he gently clasped it and knelt down to her eye level. As tall as he was, even kneeling down he was eye-to-eye with Lessil. He said nothing but searched her face and stared into her eyes. It was a bit uncomfortable save for the light curiosity of his own eyes.

"Now, you're a beauty," he murmured after several silent moments. "Though there's more gentleness to you than what I've seen before. Your eyes-" he gently pointed at them, "have the many brown shades of a tree trunk."

"Really?" Lessil replied. "I always thought they were a bit...dull."

Beorn grinned. "Many often think that trees are quite dull, merely standing there, but they don't look deeper to see its true beauty." Lessil smiled genuinely at the compliment and was about to reply when Beorn's gaze drifted away. It was down to her other arm that rested limply at her side in a make-shift splint made from a couple branches and Bofur's scarf. It had healed nicely over the last couple nights, but it was still tender. "What caused your hurt, little fairy?" he asked, gently taking her other hand.

"Well," Lessil started, "we got into some trouble with goblins?"

Beorn's eyes shot up to hers. "What were you near goblins for? Stupid thing to do, especially for a little fairy."

"Indeed," Lessil stated slowly. "But it wasn't my idea."

"The wizard's?" he asked, jerking his head toward Gandalf behind her.

Lessil shook her head. "No, not his."

"Then who? There's no one other than the two of you."

"Actually there is," Gandalf replied. "We were accompanied by a friend or two. We didn't want to bother you with so many of us..."

"Then bring them here!" Beorn called.

Gandalf whistled and several moments passed before Dwalin and Balin made their way around the house. Lessil almost laughed at the nervousness shown on Dwalin's face. She had no idea the dwarf even knew what fear was. Both gave a polite bow to Beorn, just as they had done to Lessil a her house. "Dwalin." "And Balin." "_At your service._"

Beorn's face took on an expression of coldness as well as annoyance as he rose to his feet, keeping Lessil's hand tucked in his own. "Dwarves," he muttered. "I have no need for your service, though I suspect you'll be needing mine. Now what are you lot doing all the way out here?"

"We are traveling toward the Iron Hills," Gandalf stated. "We were headed along the High Pass when we were attacked by goblins. Not only that, but before there was a large storm with stone giants that nearly caused the deaths of several of our companions-"

"Several!" Beorn interjected. "I would hardly call three several."

"Well, there are more than just the four of us."

"And where are they? Killed? Eaten? Gone back home?"

Lessil was getting a bit unnerved by Beorn's booming voice, though the hand that held hers was still as gentle as ever. She could now understand why Gandalf thought him to be a bit unpredictable.

Gandalf was allowed to call more of the company and Oin an Gloin made their way over, just as nervous, if no more so, than Balin and Dwalin. The two also bowed and _at your serviced._

"I don't need your services," Beorn growled before they'd even finished speaking. "Now go on with the tale." Though this time he looked down at Lessil to continue.

"Well," she started. "When we finally found shelter in the mountains by way of a cave, the goblins over took us by pulling out the rock cropping from underneath us. The whole lot of us tumbled down something like a chute within the mountain."

"Whole lot?" Beorn questioned. "That seemed like something bigger than just the six of you."

"There are more of us," Lessil squeaked.

"Well then, call them as well!"

This time it was Fili and Kili who entered, surprisingly not as nervous as the others. They gave their names and bowed, but Beorn stopped them before continuing with the 'at your service'. "Thank you! When I want your help I will ask for it. Now go on, little fairy."

"We were taken to the big, ugly goblin-king," Lessil continued. "They were going to do such awful things to us before Gandalf showed up and we all grabbed our weapons and ran off, taking goblins down as we went."

"As it should be," Beorn replied, proudly. "And what about you, little fairy? Did you fight your way out?"

"I did smack a goblin off the bridge we were running on," she told him. "My sword was still sheathed but he did have quite a ways to fall."

Beorn gave a booming laugh. "Now that's a fiery lass! Continue."

With an encouraged smile of her own, Lessil continued. "it wasn't long before the hole company was locked between the goblin army as well as the king-"

"Company? Are there still more of you?" Beorn asked.

Not even bothering to hide it, Lessil nodded and Gandalf gave another whistle. Dori and Ori came by this time.

"Just give me your names," Beorn told them. "I want none of your services." Bowing meekly, the two gave just that and Lessil was allowed to continue the story.

"But Gandalf here was clever enough to slice right through the goblin-king," Lessil told him.

"Good," Beorn nodded. "There is some good of being a wizard then."

"Then we made it out of the mountain with daylight still shining," Lessil continued on, "and we managed a small rest and a tiny meal before we were then set upon by orcs astride wargs. We were chased up the trees as we came to a cliff and nowhere else to go."

"So, that's how you became injured?" Beorn asked.

"Uhm," Lessil stammered. "These aren't exactly my injuries. I'm a healer. I took another injuries upon myself, where they can heal a lot quicker on my body."

"You see," Beorn exclaimed. "There is nothing dull about you! A healer! I might have guessed. Now which one of these stupid dwarves got themselves in a pinch."

Lessil could see quite a few of them wanted to protest being called stupid, but saw the flawed logic of challenging a man like Beorn. "He's no here yet," Lessil replied slowly.

Beorn groaned heavily. "Alright then! If there are anymore dwarves around here, show yourselves to me now!" he roared, more exasperated than angry.

The rest of the company pile in with Nori, Bifur, Bombur, and Bofur and finally Thorin, who all but glared at Beorn. The great man nodded. "Is that all of them?" he asked Lessil. Doing a quick head count, she turned to him and nodded. "Now who's the leader of this group?" he asked.

Thorin stepped forward. "I am Thorin Oakenshield."

"Oakenshield," Beorn muttered. "And you allow a little fairy maid to travel along goblin infested mountains and allow her injury?"

Thorin scrutinized Beorn as well as Lessil tucked at his side. "I have my reason," he replied. "And she allowed herself injuries that she is more than capable of bearing. She has shown her worth in that more than once."

Slowly, Beorn let out an airy chuckle that evolved into a booming laugh. "Now that is something! An aged dwarf lord respecting a dainty fairy maid. I think I may like you," he said, pointing a finger at Thorin, "despite being a dwarf." He put a hand on his hip. "Well, I must say you've given me an interesting tale. Come on inside and you can have some breakfast."

The dwarves bowed and gave their thanks and even let a few at your services slip. "I don't need any of your services!" Beorn roared without even glancing at them. Instead, he gently tugged at Lessil's hand and led her into his house. Lessil turned to glance at Gandalf who gave her a wink. Relieved that Beorn indeed was giving them kind hospitality, she let her anxieties drop.

* * *

**Sigh, I love Beorn. He's so awesome!**


	12. Moving Onward

**Yay! Another chapter! Finally! You know, if I actually told myself to look at this fic more often, I would probably be more inclined to continue writing. We're getting to my favorite parts. **

* * *

**~~**XII**~~**

**Moving Onward**

Despite his gruffness, Beorn was a generous host. Entering the high-ceiling cottage, the company was settled at the dining table where sheep approached laden with trays of food on their backs. Assortments of roasted vegetables, baskets of freshly baked bread, and pots of cream and honey were carefully set upon the table. And that wasn't the only surprise. Ponies had come by and spread a table cloth over the dining table and dogs tossed logs into the fire upon their entry. Lessil was surprised at how they functioned so much like...people.

She'd been so taken off guard by this that she hadn't realized her mouth had fallen open until Beorn's large finger lifted her chin up. Embarrassed, Lessil covered her mouth and allowed the large man to lead her to a seat.

Even though they were served no meat, the dwarves all heartily dug into their servings, but Lessil did notice Bombur wistfully search for another course that might suit his wants. It was all eased when the two ponies returned with a barrel of mead apiece.

Most of the conversation was headed by Beorn as he told tales of the surrounding mountains and that of Mirkwood while the rest ate. Gandalf continued to share more about their journey, mostly where they planned to travel next. Thorin made mention of the Old Forest Road south of Mirkwood.

Beorn shook his head at that. "That road has fallen into disrepair and overgrown as well as infested with goblins. I would suggest the Elf-path just north of here."

Though he didn't show it, Lessil could see Throin sour. Perhaps this would be another time when he allowed his prejudice against Elves take over, but he remained silent. And if anything of what Beorn said was true about the road being overrun with goblins, then perhaps elves would be preferable. They could be like Elrond and allow them to pass through with little trouble.

The matter was rested once dinner was finished and evening had long set in. Beorn announced that the dogs had spread out bedding for them. And he added another request, or command. "If you will excuse me," he started, "I have business to attend to tonight and a warning for the lot of you to not venture outside until the sun is up." He took some amusement in Lessil's confused expression. "Not to worry, little fairy. Just sleep the night away."

* * *

The next day, Thorin meandered around the grounds, considering what path to take from here. The better choice was for them to take the Old Forest Road, a wider, cleaner path, as opposed to the Elven Path, coming dangerously close to the Realm of the Woodland King. But it was not as easy a choice as that. Beorn said that the Old Road was wearing down and overridden and his word wasn't the only one to go by. It has been decades since he made visits to the Iron Hills through that route and even less for dwarves coming from the far east.

Gandalf didn't favor the Old Road either, seeming to agree with Beorn's advice to take the Elven Road. Twice has the wizard chosen to make for the elves and Thorin did not like it. But there was more to think about rather than his distaste for elves. He had his company to think of. Did he really want to possibly lead them to goblins yet again? They'd barely survived the last time, they might not the next time.

Meet the goblins or meet the Elves?

Thorin sighed heavily, kicking at a stray stone in his path. Either way, they couldn't remain here for too long. Durin's Day was approaching in a month. Perhaps the Elven Road would be an easier path, for it would be a straight shot into the forest with no need to move south and then north again. They might not even run into any elves at all.

He rounded to a garden area and saw their fairy burglar sitting at a bench, concentrating lightly on something on her lap. She looked so peaceful here, natural even. A place of calmness and serenity was where she belonged. Thorin had half a heart to request she remain here and immediately he heard her counter-argument. Not only that, but Thorin didn't want to leave her behind. She'd proven herself in the last few days. She could very well do the same in the next coming ones. Not only that, but she brought a lightness to the company. She gained a companionship with Fili and Kili as well as Ori, Balin had somewhat taken her under his wing so to speak, and even Oin had become interested in her healing talents after she'd healed Thorin especially.

As for Thorin himself...he was indebted to her. She'd saved his life. And it wasn't bred out of some sort of duty, or, in a way, even respect for him. It was done for her passion for life. He demeaned her capabilities and wrote her off as a mere distraction. Too much trouble for her worth. But while she did run into trouble with trolls, goblins, and Orcs, she could become resourceful.

She could even gain the favor of a Bear-man and was given the care and consideration that a noblewoman would garner. Even now, one of Beorn's hounds brought over a full teacup - on a saucer - for her, which she graciously accepted. The hound even laid its head on her knee, earning it a scratch behind the ears.

"You seem at home here," Thorin gently called out to her as he came closer.

She turned to him and smiled lightly. "Well, our host did tell me to make myself comfortable," she responded. "And you seem a bit light on your feet as well."

He felt his brow rise. "Do I?" From all his pacing and wondering of what path to take next and how little time they had to work with, he didn't feel very relaxed. "How so?"

"Well," she rethought her wording, "I guess the right word is less wary. You seem more at ease here than you were at Rivendell." She looked into his eyes, still considering. "Is there something weighing on your mind?"

Thorin glanced into the distance. "There is always something weighing on my mind," he replied.

He heard her chuckle. "Is there something weighing on your mind you would wish to _share?_" she reworded.

Thorin let out a deep breath. "Our next path," he answered after a short pause. "We must make through the Mirkwood, and there seems to be only one path open for us."

"The Elven Path." He looked at her and she nodded. "I know your difficulties with the Elves, but if it's the best path, then it should be obvious."

Thorin shook his head. "Thranduil is not as open and gracious as Elrond. Even Beorn knows this."

"He can't be worse than the Orcs, so what are you afraid of?" Lessil commented.

"I'm not afraid of him!" Thorin snapped.

Lessil didn't cow. "You avoid Elves with every fiber of your being. If it was just your hatred, then you would walk right on by with your head held high and without an ounce of their consideration."

Thorin grunted. "So, would you have us go right down the Elven Path, and walk on by through the King's questions?"

She thought on it for a moment before nodding. "Yes."

"That seems pretty bold for a fairy," Thorin commented.

"I guess saving your life has emboldened me," she replied.

Thorin turned to see her smirking slightly. She was no longer her usual gentle and tentative self, but bold and a bit cheeky. It was a change that Thorin felt refreshing. He looked at her healing arm and noticed she was gently clutching a pair of knitting needles with a wool scarf already half finished. He knew she didn't have the ball of yarn or needles before. "I can't see Beorn doing any knitting," he commented, moving to sit next to her on the bench. Sure Bofur, Oin, and Ori could knit scarves and gloves, he couldn't see Beorn doing the same.

Lessil chuckled. "He wouldn't have any use for it, would he?" she mused. "And no, he simply had the carded wool, made by his sheep. I carved the needles myself." She held up the needles, which Thorin saw they were a bit crooked, though nonetheless, smooth enough for knitting.

Thorin nodded. "So, do you really think we should risk the running into the Elves, or is it some sort of bravado?" he asked, bringing back the old conversation.

"It may be a little bit of bravado," she replied sheepishly. "But we escaped a goblin's lair, shouldn't that count for something?" She shrugged. "Whatever trouble, we can face it. Though, I do prefer we take a path that gives less trouble. The sooner we get to the mountain is all that should matter."

"Yes," Thorin agreed. "And the Old Road would take time."

"So, have you decided?" Lessil inquired tentatively.

Thorin smirked slightly. "Well, first we leave tomorrow," He gestured to her little project, "so you'd better finish your scarf before then." Lessil chuckled in response.

* * *

The next morning had the thirteen dwarves, one fairy, and single wizard settling on ten ponies and one horse. Lessil was very thankful for Beorn's generosity, even if it was only until they reached the forest border. On ponies, they would be better off out-running anyone on their tail.

Not only that, but Beorn provided them with food provisions, cooking utensils and weapons, as well as plenty other things that they'd lost and would have sorely missed.

Lessil had indeed finished her scarf and it wound around her neck as she wound her arms around Beorn's torso in goodbye. He patted her head before gently moving her arms. "Take care, little fairy," he told her. "And if these dwarves treat you poorly, then feel free to return here. You'll always be welcome."

Lessil smiled at his offer. "These dwarves may bee a bit rough around the edges, but they mean well," she replied. "If anything, I'll visit. I'd like that."

Beorn smiled and lifted her up on the horse behind Gandalf. Not only that, but he had a few words for the wizard. "You've been watched ever since you entered my lands," the Bear-man said. "Make for the Elvenpath as quick as you can. Azog won't dare follow you in too closely."

Wait...they were being watched? How? Lessil's eyes flickered around her warily. Were there beings in the trees?

"Worry not, little fairy," Beorn told her. She looked at him as he nodded toward Gandalf and the dwarves. "They'll look after you or they'll have me to answer to."

Lessil gave an appreciative smile to him as Gandalf nudged the horse forward. Their pace was much quicker than when they made across the East Road. They didn't make a slow march, but a pressed canter and even a gallop. The sun slowly made its peak overhead, rising over the trees, bearing down over their heads, and slowly making for the opposite horizon. By then, it was drifting down under the treeline of the forest in the distance.

"Gandalf," Lessil voiced well into their travels. "Are we still in danger?"

The wizard was silent before speaking. "We've always been in danger," he said. "Now we know it's there and what threat it poses toward us. Azog will be hunting us until and even when we reach the mountain. But it's not something you need to worry over, my dear."

"How can I not worry, Gandalf?" she replied.

"Well," Gandalf continued, his tone a bit more chipper, "I don't see Orcs and wargs chasing us or scouting us down. We are not under immediate threat right now. Worry about a threat when it comes, my dear."

Lessil released a shaky breath but said nothing.

The night was a bit tense as the fire was carefully stoked low after their dinner and three dwarves were always on watch. Lessil worried over Beorn's warning despite his assurances as her back pressed gently against Kili's to keep warm. It was times like these where she wished she was home, or at the very least in some sort of shelter. She wasn't built for the wild.

But she was able to fall asleep and swiftly rise in the morning to make the rest of the trip to the border of Mirkwood. The noonday sun barely peeked through the haze and heightened her own tension as she looked upon the wood.

"This forest is not right," she murmured, shaking her head. The bark of the trees were either bone white or blackish-brown. The branches curved in odd and unnatural ways and the colors of the leaves seemed cold and lifeless. The wood wasn't dead, but it wasn't lively either. Going through the forest at all no longer seemed like a good plan to Lessil. "And there's no changing direction, is there?"

Gandalf shook his head. "Not if we want to make it to the mountain by Durin's Day. This is our only path." He looked to the rest of the company who were all off their ponies. "Set the ponies loose and let them return to their master."

Little objection was made by them as it seemed the Elven Road may be too cramped for the ponies to march, even single-file. That, and they hardly wanted to upset Beorn as he probably would be if they never returned.

Lessil forced herself at her own provisions, taking them down from the horse and sorting through them. She did not like this forest. If she could choose, then she would go back and return to Beorn's lands, but she made a promise to Thorin. Or at least, she had one to keep for herself. She signed a contract that would have her see this through. She couldn't let them down over some discomfort. But she felt suffocated. The softness of her scarf like a noose as she pulled it down so it was settled under her collarbone.

She jumped as a hand rested on her shoulder. "Are you alright, Snowy?" It was Fili. Lessil swallowed thickly and nodded.

"I'll be fine," she told him, shouldering her pack and composing herself.

Fili looked toward the forest. "I don't like the looks of it either," he commented.

"This isn't the Greenwood of old," Gandalf spoke for the entire company to hear. "No, this is now Mirkwood. The very air is heavy with illusion. It will seek to enter your minds and lead you astray. Should you allow it, you will be lost forever. Keep to the paved road and it will see you through."

"Gandalf, why does it sound like you're leaving us?" Lessil question, worry seeping back into her bones. She wasn't the only one who noticed, some of the dwarves grumbled in alarm.

He gave her a sympathetic look. "I was never going to travel alongside this company forever," he answered. "In fact, I've exceeded my initial agreement to make sure you lot were safe. Now it is time for me to go. I have other things that need my attention. But not to worry, I plan to join you at the mountain."

Lessil looked to Thorin, a pleading look in her eye. His gaze caught hers and he gave a minute shake of the head. It was the wizard's decision and he could not alter it. She sighed in defeat. As Gandalf settled on the horse and turned away, Thorin strode to the entrance of the forest. Lessil stared at Gandalf's retreating form until a hand gently pulled at her elbow to follow. Fili pressed her ahead and the other dwarves pushed her in front of them until she was about in the middle of their line.

* * *

The days started blending together. With the thickness of the branches and leaves overhead, the sun never permeated into the forest, let alone much light. How they actually judged nightfall was when grunts sounded after a dwarf had dumped into another. Weariness though, didn't much count. About half the company felt a heaviness on their bones as they walked the path. Oin often complained about huffing and puffing and feeling suffocated. His complaining merely irritated the rest of the company.

Lessil was in a state of monotony, staring ahead at the back of the dwarf in front of her. It was Bofur last time...or was it Nori? No, it was Bifur...right? Who was it in front of her now? It was Ori, right? Yeah, she was pretty sure it was Ori. Regardless, she was still in line. She found she often moistened her tongue and licked her dry lips from keeping her mouth open for too long. Though once she closed it, she felt more suffocated than before. She sniffed firmly, but found her nose wasn't stuffy or clogged. And was her left ear ringing? Perhaps it was her breaths resounding in her ear from the thickness of the forest. It made her head sway back and forth slightly with each step, her boots slapping loudly against stone and foliage. A hand rose to her belly. Was she feeling nauseous?

Moving her gaze, she looked down at her feet. She was walking backwards!

Snapping her head back up, she realized she actually wasn't. It was just the forest's illusion. Right? Taking her waterskin from her belt, Lessil took a small drink. A small sense of alertness came back to her as she stared over Ori's head and watched as their line curved slightly. But soon the fog began settling back onto her senses.

"I found the bridge!"

Lessil started slightly at Bofur's voice, the dwarves gathering in less of a line as the path widened to a river. Bofur had found the bridge alright, but the middle of it was kinda...gone. The stonework was whittled away and seemed wasted despite being made of stone. Did no one look after it or even care for its maintenance? Lessil stepped to the edge of the bridge and looked down into the river.

For the first time in her life, Lessil was not refreshed at the sight of water. No matter what sort of bodied water, Lessil had always found a calmness to it, a want to dip her hand inside. But this river, she was repulsed by it. Its texture was black and inky, and not the sort that comes with the dark of night. It refracted of light and she couldn't even see her own reflection on its surface. No, this water was putrid.

"We could try to swim it," Bofur offered.

"No!" Lessil opposed immediately, turning around. "Don't even touch this water."

She found Thorin's gaze and he nodded his agreement. If she found the water bad, then there was no questioning it. Kili tried out ropes of vines nearby, testing his weight on them.

"These vines look strong enough," he called out, ready to make his way across.

Thorin halted him with a quick shout. "Let the lightest go first."

Lessil nodded. Ori could go first. But then they all looked to her. She stared back at them dumbly. Wait, she was crossing first? That's not fair! But when they did not look away, she had no choice but to pull herself onto the vines, slowly making her way across. Despite their sturdiness, the vines still swayed under Lessil's footing and touch. She didn't dare let one hand go fo the vines overhead. Her balance felt precarious as is, but the black water only made her more uneasy. She stretched her legs out as far as she could to so she could grab the next vine and scoot herself down. Almost...almost. Her ankle slid just as she grabbed it and all her weight pulled against the trunky vine to keep from falling. Carefully she pulled herself back on top balance and had to nudge forward to make for the next foot vine. At least they didn't swing very hard. And she didn't care about her landing on the other side only that she had to get their as soon as possible so she threw herself onto the wood and stone path.

Okay, she made it. She made it across. But- "Something's not right," she moaned. What was wrong with this forest!? She settled on her bum and looked toward the other side, ready to tell them to find another way but gaped in silent horror as the dwarves were already scrambling their way across. Surprisingly, Lessil felt more exasperated than shocked. Would the company really sit and wait?

Lessil slapped her cheeks twice and watched closely as each dwarf stumbled across the vines. Thorin arrived first, no worse for wear as the others began to slow down and become wary. She almost jumped as Nori made a big leap. But her concentration snapped away as Thorin hauled her to her feet. He was about to saw something when a snap of a twig sounded nearby.

Their gaze came to a white stag about thirty feet away. A single ray of light filtered onto it, making its white coat even more shiny and pure. A king's stag. Beautiful. The groan of wood sounded and Lessil saw Thorin notch an arrow and start pulling the string back.

"What are you doing?" she murmured, her voice slurring.

He didn't respond to her. He didn't even look her way. His eyes were fixed on the stag, waiting on if it was going to sprint away. It stared right at the two of them, muscles relaxed. As quick as a flash, Thorin released his arrow. It sailed just over the stag's back and the animal raced away immediately, the ray of light gone.

"You shouldn't have done that," Lessil told him. "Tis bad luck."

Thorin grunted. "We make our own luck."

There was a splash and the two looked to see Bombur had fallen into the river. He floated atop it, but his snores told them he'd fallen asleep.

"You see?" Lessil sounded. "Bad luck."

* * *

The days returned to their monotony, but filled with the groans of the entire company. With Bombur asleep and nowhere near awakening - not even from a series of slaps from Bofur and Bifur - he had to be carried on a litter by four dwarves. This tired the lot of them out quicker than before. Not only that, but their food supply was running low.

Lessil almost found it funny how they were complaining about being hungry when Bombur was asleep. That dwarf was always hungry. In fact, she'd given her carrot to him...was it four days ago? In fact, Lessil didn't often find herself hungry. She thought of the goat cheese in her bag, but didn't make to grab it.

"I need to rest!" Dori cried. Several other dwarves agreed and the four carrying the litter placed it down a bit carelessly. Lessil was not going to argue. She immediately sat down on the step just beside Bombur.

How long had they been traversing through the forest? How many days had it been? Two weeks? It couldn't be longer than that. Gandalf said it would take about that long to make it through the forest on the Elvenpath. She held her head in her hands and settled her forehead on her knees. Why did she feel so lightheaded?

Her hands nearly covered her ears but that was when she heard it. Whispering. She couldn't make out the words, but she heard the hissing whispers high above them. But what direction were they in? It seemed like all over.

"What's that?" she breathed. "Those voices? Do you hear them"

Her voice was louder that time as Thorin replied to her. "I hear nothing!" His voice was more irritated the usual, but not surprising. "No wind, no birds. What hour is it?" he called into the forest.

"I do not know," came a reply from Dwalin. "I don't even know what day it is."

Lessil came to notice the white strings next to her on the path. They weaved themselves along the trunk of the tree and wound up to the branches. There was the occasional leaf and twig sprinkled here and there. The texture of the white string looked pretty thick...and silky. But not in a pretty way. She tentatively reached a finger to it and strung against it. It thrummed against her touch and sounded all around her instead of concentrating from one place. Odd. She thrummed it again and listened. The whispers came back. She still couldn't understand them, but they buzzed more heavily.

She didn't like it. "Thorin?"

But he didn't hear here. No, the dwarves were arguing amongst themselves, asking the same questions she'd previously wondered. What day was it? How close were they to the other side? What direction were they going?

"Which way is east? We've lost the sun!"

_The sun._ Lessil looked up. There was the barest flicker of light coming through the leaves. Someone needed to go up there. She looked around her but it was obvious that she needed to do it herself. Rising to her feet, Lessil reached for the nearest branch, hauling herself up. She was never a tree climber, but the set of the branches and the angle of the tree were safe enough for her to make her ascent.

She gently pushed through the copse of trees and immediately felt the warmth of the sun and the cool breeze. Both washed over her and cleared the fog between her ears. The wind drifted through her hair which she didn't bother braiding when she awoke. She breathed in gulps of air with ease, the strain of her lungs invigorating. Oh, the momentary break from the poison of the wood. She thought she'd never escape it.

Lessil looked out into her surroundings. The leaves were the autumn colors of red, orange, and soft browns. They contrasted with the bright blue butterflies that scattered up into the sky. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Lessil felt _alive._

When she peeked over the trees the could see the refraction of light on a clear lake, the waters much more healthy and welcoming than the river within Mirkwood. Following the water's edge, she could see a widening path where the water flowed from the forest. The trees didn't cover it up and it made a clear path. it was too the north east and if they headed there now, they could make it in just over an hour. They were almost out!

Also, looking further north, Lessil could see the Lonely Mountain, up close in all its glory. They were oh so close! Lessil could practically taste it. How Thorin would be thrilled!

Lessil looked back down into the forest. "Thorin! We're almost there! We just have to head North East!"

There was no reply but loud snapping sounds met her ears. Like something was breaking branches.

"Hello!" Lessil called. Again, no answer.

More snapping sounds and Lessil noticed that the leaves were beginning to rustle in large waves. The breeze wasn't strong enough to do that and it was only happening in certain spots. She ducked underneath the leaves to try and see what was making that noise. When she tried moving her feet, they stuck on the sticky white thread that she'd seen on the forest floor. Wait..._spider webs. _

With a yelp, Lessil tumbled down from the branch, falling down into massive clumps of webbing that latched from branch to branch, tree to tree. There was no seeing through them with how much they overlapped. Were they there before?

Lessil threw out her arms, reaching for something to grab and shorten her fall. She finally managed to cling to a thick enough branch and oriented herself. She couldn't see the forest floor and there was nothing close for her to grab onto and climb down.

The branch shifted in her hand...and pulsed under her fingers. Pulsed? Looking into the webbing in front of her, something behind it shifted and broke through. A spider. A _big one_.

She'd just fallen into the spider's nest!

* * *

**Reviews will be loved!**


	13. I Promise

**Another update so soon? Yup, we're definitely getting into the good stuff! Many thanks to all who favored and followed this story and more thanks to angel897 and alliesmiley2 for reviewing!**

* * *

**~~**XIII**~~**

**I Promise**

Lessil froze as the spider's large eyes fixed upon her. She didn't even release her grip on its leg, the only thing keeping her up. They stared at each other for several heartbeats until the spider hissed loudly at her. That snapped Lessil into motion, shrieking loudly and dropping down. But she didn't drop for long. She landed in a soft net of _something,_ though when she tried to move, her limbs barely budged. Looking around, she saw she was caught in their web, the threads sticking to her coat and boots and even her hair. The pull stung slightly as she tried to break free to no avail.

Above her, the spider climbed down through the branches, its legs crawling in all directions in its routine movement. Lessil was by no means afraid of spiders, but never had she seen one that was bigger than her thumb! And this one...this one was the same size as her! She thrashed and shrieked in terror as it came closer. Would it eat her? Stick her and kill her and _then_ eat her? Were there more? Did they eat the rest of the company? Thorin?

But something happened that Lessil couldn't quite get the hang of. The spider came toward her, its legs furrowing around her, and then she felt herself being twisted around in odd junctions, the webbing around her closing in a confining way. Her shrieking cut off as the sticky webs covered her mouth and her head jerked painfully to the side, numbing her mind.

She felt so dizzy. So out of sorts. Were was the clarity she'd just gotten moments ago? The sun? The light? The wind? Slowly, Lessil opened her eyes to a stringy white film over her vision and a figure moving just over her. The spider. She could feel the breath of its body above her and its fangs brushing over her forehead. Lessil's breath caught in her throat, but she found Thorin's words rushing back into her mind. _Keeping your head is half the battle._

Her hands shifted toward her waist where her sword hung. The webbing was a lot more flexible than she would have guessed. Yanking her elbow up, she thrust her sword into the middle of the spider, fighting against its dying screams and pushing harder into its flesh. The crack of its shell sounded and Lessil's blade must have pierced it all the way through. Heaving, she threw her weight to the side and the spider rolled with her sword, slipping off it and tumbling down to the forest floor.

Sitting up sharply, Lessil tugged at the webs covering her face, gagging at the smell. She never knew that spider webs could smell, but the rot, decay, and perhaps even blood wafting into her nose was too much. Her arms and legs were next, the threads tearing off easily, but sticking cringingly to her hands.

The strain of branches, squishing of webs, and squeals of spiders had Lessil looking up to see several more spiders within their thick webbing and perhaps a dozen white clumps hung in various places. There were about a dozen. The dwarves!

Lessil got to her feet, placing herself behind the trunk of the nearest tree to keep from their view. She let out a clear, calming breath and focused on her magic. She felt it wash over her and knew that the spiders would not be able to see her. Not only that, but she found she could understand their words through their hissing.

"_Kill them! Kill them! Eat them now while their blood is running!_"

"_Their hide is tough, but there is good juice inside!_"

"_Stick it in! Kill them now!_"

"_Ah! It's alive and kicking!_"

Lessil turned to see which dwarf was the spider referring to. Were more than one of them alive? She couldn't figure out who was swathed within the thick layers of webbing. They all looked alike and the spiders congregated around all of them.

"_Feast! Feast! Feast!_"

She heard the last one coming from behind her and ducked just in time as it skittered over her to the dinner table. She had to get them away. Noise. Of course. She plucked a loose branch by her feet and chucked it to the side, listening as it fell toward the forest floor. The spiders turned, alerted to the noise and immediately followed down, no doubt hoping to add to their big meal.

Not all the spiders left though, one hung in front of its prey, still inclined to feast. "_Fat and juicy. Just a little taste._"

Approaching from behind, Lessil swung her sword at its back, causing to spider to arch and scream in pain. Prey ignored, it turned toward Lessil, baring its fangs and hissing loudly. But from the awkwardness of its cry, it obviously didn't see Lessil. She slashed at its legs as it blindly tried to swipe at her, remembering all the movements Thorin put her through.

Frustrated, the spider cried out. "_Curses! Where is it? Where is it!_"

With a grin, Lessil released her magic. "Right here!" She poised her sword and plunged it right into the spider's face, just underneath its eyes. The spider's dying cries gave Lessil an odd sort of satisfaction as she pulled out her blade and watched the spider fall to the ground. Her gaze then turned back to her sword. It felt right in her hands. It made her feel powerful. "I guess I finally understand you, Iolanthe," she murmured, thinking of her ancestress who wielded the sword before her.

She moved into the webbing, hacking away at the fibers and cutting down the webbed clumps that housed the dwarves. They fell onto mats of webbing below that softened their fall to the ground and soon they began wiggling out of their confines. As she cut down the last of them, she could hear their groans and see them wresting free.

"Where's Snowy?" she heard Bofur call.

Lessil smiled, glad her dwarves were all fine. "I'm up here!" she cried. But as soon as she called out those words, a spider dove in front of her, causing her to shriek and fall back. Instinctively, she went for her blade and shoved it into the spider's belly. As it screamed and died, the spider's legs cradled around her and sent them both rolling and falling to the forest floor.

Gasping for breath after her landing, Lessil shuffled to her feet and away from the dead spider. "I have had it with all these spiders!" she shrieked, dusting, pulling, and pinching all the webbing off her. The webs clumped on her fingers and she had to brush, wring, and shake them clean. She shuddered each time the fibers fell to the forest floor, glad to be free of them. "Can't wait to leave this forest!" she hissed, brushing her fingers through her hair. Guess she should braid it. No need for it to be in the way.

Shouts from nearby started Lessil out of her fiddling. No doubt the dwarves were still heaving their way through spiders or this blasted forest. Lessil sheathed her sword and made for their cries. Without the forest path, making her way through was a lot less even for Lessil, having to climb over old fallen trees and high roots.

"I'm coming!" Lessil cried as she passed around another tree just to shove herself back behind it and cloak herself.

She found the rest of the company and they were surrounded by Woodland Elves with their arrows trained. Lessil peaked around the tree trunk and watched as the dwarves had their weapons confiscated and even Gloin having his possessions looked through. Rude! She also saw one pale haired elf - the others had more light auburn hair - hold Thorin's blade, Orcrist. Straining her ears, she heard him amaze over it, at least his voice sounded like it as Lessil new very little Elvish, before he turned a glare at Thorin and asked where'd he'd obtained it. The Elf obviously did not like Thorin's answer, which was true enough and better said than saying he'd found it, and pointed the blade at him accusingly. He soon ordered the dwarves to be taken away.

* * *

Their path through the forest was not going at all the way Thorin had hoped. The darkness, the bare path that had led them so astray, the spiders that had pounced on them with surprise, and now the elves had captured them. Not preferable at all. At his side, his company were shoved into path by the elves, in the direction of the Woodland Kingdom. To Thranduil. And who knew what else.

"Thorin!" he heard Bofur hiss. "Where's Snowy?"

Thorin's brow knotted as he turned to quickly scout around him. There was no trace of their fairy burglar. No trace since they ran into the spiders actually. Where was she? Was she injured? Lost? She couldn't be! But he didn't have much time to ponder as he was shoved down the line as well.

Their walk to the Elven Kingdom was silent other than short words of elvish from their captures. The only thing that Thorin was actually pleased to see was the light of the sun. It peaked through the leaves and trees where they weren't left to grow rampantly. But that was soon squashed by the closed walls of the Woodland Kingdom, where the light came through open arches, yes, but still meant encasement. Thorin was forced to watch while the rest of his company was lead down to the dungeons while he would speak to the king.

He stiffened as he felt something softly and carefully press down on his shoulders. Peeking to his shoulder, he saw dirty but delicate fingers on the collar of his cloak. Lessil. She was right behind him and looking to the guards at his sides, he was the only one who knew of her presence. Thorin took a deep and measured breath to acknowledge he knew she was there and her hands left his shoulders.

The Elven King was awaiting Thorin as the guards led him to the throne room. He was met with the familiar aloof expression that Thranduil always wore as the elf king slowly stepped down from his little chair. It didn't take him very long at all to guess why Thorin and his company were within the wood, and it was not for burglary like their captures had accused. Thranduil was no fool, even Thorin had to begrudgingly admit that.

"You seek that which would bestow upon you the right to rule," the Elf-King spoke. "The King's Jewel. The Arkenstone."

Thorin looked away from Thranduil, not daring to make a sound. Though whether or not he spoke did little means. And his silence did nothing but affirm the king's words.

"It is precious to you beyond measure," he continued. "I understand that. There are jewels within that mountain that I, too, desire. White gems, of pure starlight."

Thorin's eyes narrowed slightly. If his memory was good, he knew what Thranduil was speaking of. The barest memory of shining white that once or twice had caught his young, admiring gaze. The gems that his grandfather prided over but not the same as that of his other riches.

"I offer you my help," Thranduil proposed with an incline of his head.

Thorin bit back a scoff. So, Thranduil wanted something of him, and expected to get it. In his own eyes, the elf king had all the cards. "I'm listening," Thorin decided to humor him.

"I will let you go," the Elf-King told him, "if you but return what is mine."

Of course. Thorin had expected no less. An elf only looking for his own gain. He would let them go, but he would not help them reclaim Erebor. No, Thranduil wanted Thorin to do all the work for him. And should Thorin return the jewels to Thranduil, the Elf-King would merely sight his own generosity in _allowing_ Thorin and his company to get to Erebor in the first place. Selfishness at its finest. "A favor for a favor," Thorin mused.

"I give you my word," Thranduil sounded. "One _King_ to another."

This time Thorin did scoff. "I would not trust _Thranduil,_ the great _king_ to honor his word should the end of all days be upon us!" His words echoed within the expanse of the throne room. "You!" Thorin turned, pointing his finger at the arrogant Elf-King, "lack our honor! I have seen how you treat your _friends!_" Thorin approached the throne. "We came to you once; starving, homeless, in need of your help, but you turned your _back!_" Thorin sneered at the Elf-King who so readily threw them to the cold, but expected Thorin to give him charity. As if he deserved it! "You turned away from the suffering of _my people!_ And the inferno that destroyed us!" He continued in his words, the dwarvish curses spewing from his mouth, so savage and satisfying.

Thranduil moved toward him in a single swoop. "Do not talk to me of dragon _fire!_" he snapped. "I have felt its wrath and ruin!" He swept back. "I warned your grandfather what his greed would summon, but he would not listen." Thranduil stepped back toward his throne. "And you are just like him." He curled his fingers and suddenly guards gripped Thorin at each side, hauling out of the throne room and toward the dungeons, where he would wait out however long Thranduil wished him to.

"Did he offer you a deal?" Balin asked as soon as the keymaster walked away.

"He did," Thorin sneered. And he also said just what he thought of their deal, letting out loudly for the sensitive elf hears to hear.

"Well that's that, then," Balin replied dryly. "A deal was our only hope."

Thorin clutched the bars of his cell and looked out into the Woodland Kingdom as if his thoughts could summon her to them. "Not our only hope," he murmured. _She will find us a way out of here._

* * *

Lessil first made sure to let Thorin know she was here with them. It put her at ease and let him know that they could find a way out of here. At least, now that the Elven King would not be inclined to let them go free.

She had followed Thorin to the throne room and heard his words with the Elven King. Thranduil, as he was called, was definitely not like Lord Elrond. While they both stood with wisdom, grace, and presence, Thranduil had a harshness to him that the Lord of Imladris did not. Also, a sense of extravagance in the details of his cloak, rings on his fingers, and the decoration of autumn berries on his crown. Both of these did not bode well as it did not take long for him and Thorin to come to verbal blows. Already, the Woodland King was spiteful, planning to keep the company here until Thorin agreed to his bargain. Lessil still did not like it, but she could understand why Thorin did not like these Elves in particular. Though, what these Elves did not know was that the dwarves would find a way out, as long as Lessil did her part.

So, she began scouting through the Elven Kingdom, figuring out ust how she would spirit away thirteen dwarves without triggering any alarm. It wasn't easy. While the place was very large, the guards were diligent even if sparsely placed. They didn't need an overhaul anyway as the elves would be able to spot trouble a mile away, or more, and deal with it accordingly and no time spared. Lessil quickly decided that going down would be a better way of getting out. There were no other ways out on the upper floors unless they wanted to do some risky climbing. And again, guards.

Lessil carefully padded down the stairs as the Elf-King came into sight. The fairy gift of being unseen worked quite well on Elves, especially the younger ones, but every once in a while, an older, wiser elf could see through the illusion magic. Keen ears could hear the barest slide of foot, catch of breath, brush against a wall.

"I know you're there."

Lessil froze, her breath stilling, barely able to keep it from hitching as she looked toward King Thranduil. He no longer wore his crown and wore a simple, but still elaborate, silver robe. But even then, he looked impossibly regal and he was looking right at her. "Why do you linger in the shadows?" he continued.

He knew she was there but Lessil still clung to her magic. What would she say to him? She could not be merely passing by, especially just after a group of dwarves came into his capture. Perhaps Lessil could make a bargain of her own?

"I was coming to report to you."

Footsteps sounded down the stairs behind Lessil and the King's gaze followed the female elf as she stood opposite him and gave a curt bow. Lessil let out a breathy sigh and continued for the stairs. She didn't dare push her luck to think the King would be too distracted by the conversation to hear her so she quietly padded toward the stair. Slowly. Slowly.

"Other lands are not my concern."

Lessil stopped at that. She stepped back a step to see past the twining limbs that made the arch pillars of the room and stared at the king, just as the elf maid did. The Elf-King sounded so...careless. Of course a ruler should look to his own, but to not consider what happens to others? Where is the compassion in that? The people of Bree had no particular fondness for Lessil, but she still helped them. It was what she did and they needed it.

"The fortunes of the world will rise and fall," Thranduil continued, "but here in this kingdom, we will endure."

_What is your kingdom then, if all around it is wasteland? _Lessil thought with a huff. She saw the King's shoulders stiffen and moved back behind the pillar before he glanced over his shoulder. It was time for her to leave.

As Lessil made lower and lower into the kingdom, a bustle among the elves caught her attention. Many were heading to and from this hallway and, pressing against the wall as to not bump into any of them, Lessil followed them.

"Sixteen barrels of wine for the feast? Only that much?" one of the elves muttered, shaking his head. "Will the King notice if I add one more? We'll see?"

Knotting her brow, Lessil decided to follow him. The elves were having a feast? When? The elf led her adjacent to the cells where the dwarves were held in order to get down to the cellars which held barrels upon barrels of wine. Only two elves were stationed there and they began emptying the barrels to take for the Feast of Starlight that would take place the day after tomorrow.

Perfect! Most the elves would be dancing in their revelries and would not notice a bunch of dwarves sneaking out from under their noses! But again, how would they leave? Lessil shook her head, she could figure out the details later. Now, she needed to start planning with Thorin.

It did not take long for it to be safe enough for her to speak with Thorin. The guards in the cellar did not do a sweep, and did not feel so inclined to. They're all locked up, where could they go?, they had said. Laziness that Lessil could use to her advantage.

She looked along the cells, some dwarves pairing up, others had cells to themselves. Thorin had one to himself and he seemed to be dozing in the back corner. "Thorin!" Lessil whispered loudly. It seemed his doze was very light as he awoke immediately and looked in her direction.

"Lessil?" his voice whispered back. He could not see her, but Lessil didn't dare let go of her magic lest a guard come sweeping by unexpectedly.

"I'm right outside," she told him, one hand clutching the metal bars and one snaking inside to reach for him. Thorin made for the cell door and her hand brushed his shoulder, making the illusion fade in his eyes. He blinked as his focus of her cleared up and his hand moved to cover hers on the cell bars.

He looked her up and down. "Are you injured at all?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No," she answered. "I got through the spiders quite unscathed. They may be huge and annoying, but no match for me."

The grin that stretched on Thorin's lips made Lessil light up inside. Oh, how actually happy he looked at that single moment. And his breathy laugh at her still new-found courage had her curling her other hand around his shoulder.

"And I may have found a way to get us all out of here within two days," Lessil continued. She told him that their Feast of Starlight would be soon and the heavy drinking that was bound to ensue would leave them glazed by dawn. The perfect time to slip out.

"Where do we leave from?" Thorin asked.

Lessil shook her head. "Haven't figured that out yet," she answered. "There are no exits below here and all the others would gather around the great hall, where a bunch of elves will be. It won't matter if they are intoxicated, we cannot slip by them."

Thorin looked down, his brow furrowing in thought. Lessil gazed at his dark hair, brushed with silver as thoughts came to her head as well. Where could they sneak out? Thorin's head then shot back up and his eyes met hers.

"The elf said sixteen barrels of wine, correct?" he said. Lessil nodded. "Where do the barrels go?"

Lessil shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't hear it mentioned."

"Once they empty out the barrels, they will be carried away to be sold off or refilled. Usually by trade," Thorin answered. "Where would they be packed off?"

"Would they not be traded by the elves themselves?" Lessil inquired.

Thorin shook his head. "They wouldn't do the heavy lifting," he responded.

Lessil scrunched her brow. "You really don't think highly of the elves, do you?" she replied.

"They are not like Dwarves, or even Men, Lessil," he answered simply. And it didn't seem as a slight so much as an observation. "Their hard labor is different from others. They would be picked up by the Men of Laketown. So either he would come to the barrels of the barrels come to him."

Lessil nodded. "I'll look into it." She would, just not yet. She looked down at Thorin and he looked up at her. "When I said to hold your head high and not consider what the elves think, this is not what I had in mind," she continued after their long pause. Yes, their capture was not what she thought'd they would do. But then, she expected them to be going along the Elven Path and they had lost their way.

"But it was a courageous thought on your behalf," Thorin told her. "Especially when we leave here right under their noses. They do not command us."

Lessil chuckled and so did he. Indeed, the elves would not keep them here. The Elf-King thought he had all the power, but he did not. Lessil frowned. "I think I finally understand why you dislike the Elves," she murmured. His gaze did not shift at her words, either to encourage or discourage her, which she was grateful. "King Thranduil is not as gracious as Lord Elrond. Both would wish to stop you, but Elrond would not try to impose as Thranduil is now. I swear the king nearly spotted me and he would probably imprison me just as he did you. I do not like it."

She watched Thorin as he gazed at the hands entwined on the bars. His thumb brushed against her knuckles gently. "Elves and Dwarves have never been great allies," he said. "But we have made it work to some varying degrees. Being so close, the Woodland Elves and my people were close allies, and for Thranduil to turn his back on us when we were in need was a blow too painful for me to accept. I hated him for it."

"It is from his own selfishness, Thorin," Lessil said, curling her hand around his cheek.

"You believed that I was afraid of the Elves," Thorin pressed on through her words. "I denied such a thing, but it is not completely untrue. I am not afraid of Elves, but...their selfishness. Their abandonment of my people...It pains me more than I care to admit. I am afraid, Lessil." He looked up into her eyes. "Of the betrayal." His voice growled out the last words. "They know _nothing_ of the honor my people hold. _Nothing._"

Lessil cupped her hand on Thorin's cheek, holding his chin to face her. "I promise, Thorin," she told him. "I promise never to betray you. I trust in you and you can put your trust in me. I promise this."

His eyes softened slightly as he took in her words. A small sigh and a nod was all she needed to know he understood and accepted her pledge. "You look tired," he commented, after a long pause.

"It's been a long day," she said with a half-smile.

"You should get some rest," he told her.

She shook her head. "I can't keep up my magic in sleep."

"Then find a hiding place and stay there," Thorin said. "We have a full two days until we leave. Use that time to get some rest."

With a sigh, Lessil nodded. "When I come back, I'll have the rest of the plan." With a kiss on his knuckles, Lessil slipped away.

* * *

**Until next time!**


End file.
